The searchlight. [volume] (Culbertson, Mont.) 1902-current, 1909-01-15
CHAPTER VII.
The Last Homecoming.

| Its dead master had been taken to
he hall-the big. old place standing
in its wide, wooded grounds on the
! outskirts of Wildfell, that had shell
tered long generations OF his name;
| in the great, sombre dining room the
faces of dead.and-gone Humes looked
Town from the broad gold frames on
the pane!ed walls on a figure that
might have been carved out Of mar
BILE. with features so calm and untrou-
sied that it was difficult to associate
hem with a violent death. In the
| iarkcned house the servants moved
with hushed tread and spoke in whis-
rers. as though afraid of disturbing
The dead mans last sleep.
The police had been telegraphed for
from Fellsgarth and DIR. Sprent sum-
moned. Immediately on the discovery
Of the tragedy; the little group stood
talking In lowered voices In the room
where the dead man lay. Bonho!t
Hume was not one Of the group-the
new master. as he now was. OF the
hall; the place was entailed. and he
was the last Of the family.
No one had been surprised at Bon
holt Hume's marked reluctance to en-
p. ter the chamber of death. or his re.
fusal when the tragic news came to
4 identify the dead man. His strong
affection for Philip was matter OF
! common knowledge in the village; II
seemed not unnatural that he should
shrink from the ordeal OF SO painful
a sight. even IL to DR.. Sprent his
| dread to look upon the dead face Of
1 one confessedly so dear to him was
/ somewhat inexplicable.
THE face Is quite calm and peace
full, MIR. Hume; there Is no sugges
ton there of his violent end to shoci
you. And although the poor fellow
must have been lying there thre'
weeks the snow has arrested th'
processes of Nature marvelously.
said DIR. Sprent, who had looked
upon the face Of deaths to-
often for IT to have any terrors. HI
could not understand or sympathiz
with the shrinking fear the poor hu
! man clay could inspire-least OF al
in any one TO whom the dead ha
been dear.
But Bonholt Hume drew back. whit
and trembling. with horror In his face
His nerve seemed 10 have utterl
gore.
NO. no." he cried. Il couldn
bear til want my last recollectlo
D of him to be as | saw him last. ga
and so full of life-I couldn't bear I
see him as he Is now"
And he had stopped DR.. Sprent whe
the latter was describing the natnr
of The wound that had caused Phi
ip's death. as though he could not e'
=, dure to hear the details. His manne
was almost hysterical,
Il knew it-all along l feared SOM
!, thing like this." he broke ont ae
tatediy, addressing himself more
the superintendent of police. who hn
, ridden over from Fellsgarth, than
the doctor. His strange disappea
anee so soon after his encounter vii
young l.athom-we know II was Thu
night !.e disappeared-it must ha'
been kat night he met his end. II
rcor Fsilip. who hadn't an enemy
tie world-except Jack Lathom! Al
y, even If Philip did repeat to Lathon
Of father rumors that are said to ha
|. been mistaken. he was only dol
,e what he conceived to be his duty
il nothing to warrant young Lathcn
d. almost tiger.sh attack on him III
a night. III only the constable W
ne separated them in the road had Wa
er ed, as he ought to have done. to ha
he prevented any possibility OF Lathe
he returning TO finish his quarrel
N, DIR. Sprent interrupted the excit
sr. TRADE. He had been listening with
A. deepening frown Of impatience befc
en- he broke in.
ot Hume. you are talking unwarra
re- ably" His eyes were bent sharl
Sc on the white-haired man. "One wol
We think you wanted to tx the crime
young Lathom: you are neither jut
nor Jury, remember" 1t was not Of
that the doctors genial voice was
stern. The idea Of the lad hay
had . hand Il sksa Is presnstesn
No. You imply an inference that Is In
Of nous and without any foundation
at least. SO far as anything is kno'
Ise You ought to have more control o
en- Yourself"
,or With the curt rebuke he turned
II his heel Without another word B
aolt Hume walked unsteadily aw
az >.>>o,e>~~