continually coming into unpleasant contact with whinbushes, or stumbling over loose boulders which had fallen from the dyke.

The light which I had made up my mind to aim for lay across a valley between two hills, and was a fair way up on the opposite slope. I olambered over the dyke amid a rattle of loose stones, and set off downhill at a good pace, and at considerable risk of a broken ankle, for the closecropped turf was honey combed with rabbit-holes and full of ridges and irregularities of surface.

It was now all but night, and but for the fact that the moon had appeared round the shoulder of the nearest hill, I should have been unable to advance with any hope of reaching my goal. To add to my troubles, the light for which I was aiming suddenly disappeared. Once or twice again I caught a glimpse of it, and then it was gone for good.

Immediately after I had lost sight of the light, the report of a shot-gun reached my ears from somewhere in the gloom ahead. At the same time I thought I could hear a faint distant call of distress, and then once more the silence fell around me.

I stood still and listened intently, but as I heard nothing further, I put the sound down as the startled call of some bird disturbed by the shot.

Then, by the aid of the moonlight, I saw the explanation of the disappearance of the light for which I was aim

ing. Ahead of me lay a long narrow wood, which appeared to me as a black stripe stretching away far up the hill towards which I was advancing. As I descended the slope into the valley, this wood had come between me and the light.

I could see that I must either make a very long detour, or else out right through the wood-no easy job in the darkness. However, as I had no idea how far I might have to walk to get round it, I determined that I would go through, if the undergrowth were not too thick.

I reached the bottom of the valley and stumbled into a little burn that flowed through it. Crossing this, I advanced uphill once more, still over springy, close grass, and each moment I seemed to get nearer to the wood. So quickly did it draw near that it almost seemed to be coming to meet me, and as it came I liked it less and less.

There was something horrid about that wood. All around me I could see the rough outline of the country by the bright light of the moon, but there ahead the moon's rays had no power. The wood was like a great black wall stretched across my track. Its gloom and silence began to have an eerie effect upon me, so much so that as I reached the dyke that bordered the wood I began to hesitate, and wonder if perhaps it would not be wiser to make the detour after all.

Then I pulled myself to

gether and called myself a nervous fool, afraid of the dark. Giving myself no further time for hesitation, I clambered over the wall and dived down into the darkness. Immediately the whole wood became a pandemonium of sound. For a moment my heart jumped within me in sudden fear; and then I realised that in the tree-tops were the nests of innumerable woodpigeons, whose rest I had disturbed, and the harsh clatter of whose wings had startled

me.

I pushed my way forward, stung and pricked by the sharp pine-needles, which to my highstrung nerves seemed like the swords of dumb sentinels

barring my advance. As I struggled I became conscious of another sound, so distinct that it pierced even the thunderous flapping overhead.

It was a low moaning wail, as of some oreature in awful pain or stricken by unutterable sorrow-a sound that, coming to me raw-nerved as I was, brought a cold sweat to my brow and set my limbs a-tremble.

I stumbled on, guarding my head from injury with out stretched arms, and jarring my whole body from time to time as I collided with the trunks of trees. Already it was hopeless to turn back. My sense of direction had deserted me, and there was nothing for it but to struggle on, in the hope that I would blunder out on the opposite side.

As I penetrated farther the

trees seemed to grow wider apart, and patches of moonlight lay here and there, like white sheets spread upon the ground. A clear light shone some way ahead as though an open space lay there, wherein the moonlight could could play freely.

But from that direction, too, seemed to come the ever-repeated wail that struck unmanly fear into my heart. I all but turned and fled back into the thicket. Shame drove me forward, however, and soon I had stumbled upon the verge of a small clearing, brilliantly lit by the cold hard light of the moon.

It was here that I found the source of the weird sad ories that had upset my nerve.

In the middle of the clearing stood a rough cairn of stones, clean-out in the moonlight. Seated at the base of this cairn was a young man, on whose face there was a look of grief and despair indescribable in words.

Across his knees and supported by his twined arms lay the form of a white - clad woman, from whose closed eyes and set features life appeared to have fled. A great dark stain spread over the bosom of her white dress. Her dark hair hung loose over the arm of the youth who held her.

At first I thought the young man had heard my approach, but his eyes, which looked in my direction, were fixed on vacaney and as I looked his lips parted, and there burst from them again that low long wail.

How long I stood silently looking on this strange scene I cannot say. I might have stood much longer than I did but for a discovery that I made without at first realising its significance. As the young man sat motionless with the body of the woman in his arms, I became conscious of the faint regular rise and fall of her bosom. Everything stood out so clearly in the moonlight that I could not be mistaken. So still and white was her face that I had assumed that life had fled, and the discovery of my mistake came on me so suddenly that I rushed forward, shouting—

Do you hear? She is alive! Let me see the wound."

I took the woman from his arms and laid her upon the ground. Quickly I opened up the bosom of her dress and found upon her breast, just over the heart, a long raw flesh wound. A short examination convinced me that it was that, and nothing more. She had merely fainted from loss of blood and from shook.

Springing to my feet I tried to convey this good news to the young man, who had stood by meanwhile with a dazed look on his face.

"She is all right!" I explained. "It is merely a flesh

The young man started to his feet, still clasping her to his breast, and I saw his eyes gradually focus upon me, and marked the look of surprise with which he slowly realised my presence.

"Who are you?.. What do you want here?" he demanded, but in a hoarse whisper as if afraid of disturbing her whom he carried.

"Don't ask questions," I answered hurriedly. "I am a doctor, and the lady is hurt -but alive."

"She is shot through the heart!" he murmured. "Oh, God!" And again his ory of anguish filled the air.

"Pull yourself together, man," I said abruptly, and seizing his shoulder I shook him roughly. "She is alive!

her in order that I may dress it properly? Have you a home near by?"

Gradually a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "She is alive? Oh, Marie! Thank God !"

He threw himself on the ground beside her and kissed her eyes, her lips, and her hair, and dropped tears upon her upturned face.

"Come, come!" I I said sternly. "This won't do at all. Pull yourself together, man, and let us get a roof over the lady."

"Yes, yes," he stammered brokenly. "You are right. It is not far."

He lifted her tenderly in his arms, and making a sign to me to follow, me to follow, plunged apparently into the depths of the wood. In reality he fol

lowed a narrow track which soon led us to a gate in the boundary wall. Not far ahead, across a field, I saw a light shining from the window of a farmhouse. Towards this my guide carried his burden, and soon after we had the injured woman lying upon a couch in a comfortable room, and I was busily at work dressing her wound.

I had hardly finished when she opened her eyes and looked vacantly round until she encountered the gaze of the youth, who was watching her eagerly.

"Roy," she murmured faintly, and closed her eyes again. "Marie, my darling! Thank God you are alive!"

He was on his knees by her side, holding her pale face between his hands.

"Let her rest," I intervened with professional bluntness. "She will do better if left undisturbed."

He rose obediently at my word.

"Now," I continued. "What is the meaning of all this? Did your gun go off by accident?"

The young man shook his head.

"I had no gun," he said, looking me straight in the face. "I was not there. I heard a shot in the wood-a ory of pain from my wife and I rushed to her assistance. I was here in the farm. When I found her she lay at the foot of the cairn. I thought she was dead. That is all-except that whoever you are-I thank you for what you have

done. Perhaps Marie can explain."

"No, no," I said hurriedly. "She must not be worried tonight. You must get her to bed as quickly as you can; but first, perhaps, you can direct me to Hopeton, for I have lost my way."

"Hopeton!" The young man started back, a wild look of anger in his eyes. "Do you come from there? Are you a spy then, after all?"

I shook my head, wondering at his sudden excitement.

"I have never been to Hopeton in my life," I answered quietly. "I have lost my way through trying to take short cut from Kilbrennan."

He looked at me intently, but evidently reading the truth of my words in my face, he calmed down once more.

"I will guide you to Hopeton," he said, after a moment's thought. "First let me get my wife safely to bed and then I shall be ready."

I examined my patient once more, and found her conscious but weak. Her husband carried her off to an upper room, leaving me alone to await his return.

I had now time te observe my surroundings, and was surprised to find the furnishing and decoration of the room vastly superior to what one would expect in the sittingroom of a small farm-house. There were many evidences of taste and of education upon the walls, and in the books and music which lay upon a sidetable.

I had time also to search my

memory for something that had so far escaped me. Of whom did this young man remind me? There was something distinctly familiar about his face, though I could swear I had never seen him before.

I was still puzzling over this resemblance when my attention was distracted by a crumpled and blood-stained paper which lay on the floor near the couch. I remembered then that in dressing my patient's wound I had found this paper concealed in the bosom of her dress.

I picked it from the floor and straightened it out. The paper was yellow with age and worn and frayed where it had been folded. In wiping away the blood with which it was stained, the name Tanish caught my eye, and I found myself looking at the context before I realised that my action was dishonourable.

I did not learn much from my spying, however. The writing was not English, nor any other language that I knew anything of. It bore most resemblance to German, and I surmised that it was written probably in one of the Scandinavian tongues with which I was unfamiliar. The hand was cramped and antique, and I guessed that it must be one or two centuries old.

I was standing with this document in my hand when my host returned. I apologised for my prying, and explained it as best I could. He took the paper and examined it closely.

"You say my wife was wear

ing this inside her dress?" he asked with surprise. I nodded in reply.

"Strange!" he murmured. "I can make nothing of it. I have never seen it before."

"Your wife is not Scottish?" I hazarded.

"No, Belgian," he replied shortly, as though he resented my curiosity.

"Ah! Then I have it! The paper is in Flemish," I exclaimed.

"Perhaps you are right," he answered coldly, "but it is no business of ours. I shall return the paper to my wife tomorrow. Are you ready to go, or can I offer you any refreshment?"

I thanked him, but declined. I was already very late, and as my luggage had probably arrived at Hopeton, they would no doubt be wondering what had become of me.

We set out at a good round pace. My guide declined to converse, answering my tentative remarks with monosyllables, and being obviously anxious to be rid of me. After quarter of an hour's tramp I recognised that I was back at the fox-cover where the path had forked. It was obviously here that I had gone astray. My companion led

down the other the other fork, through the fox-cover, and when we were through the wood we crossed a stile which brought us out on a proper road.

"This is the highway from Kilbrennan," explained my guide. "You are now almost at your destination."