MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
"We'll try the tunnel, King," he said swiftly. "Lift the andiron. Who do you suppose closed the trap?"
"Jean, probably, for fear some one might notice."
The secret door swung as easily as ever on its pivot, revealing the interior.
"The man never took the lantern," I exclaimed in surprise, straightening up and pointing at the shelf. Our eyes met in understanding; in our minds was the same thought: perhaps just below we were to discover another tragedy.
Donald descended first, after lighting the lantern and throwing the illumination well down the shaft; I followed, with Dunn loitering in the rear. We grouped together at the foot of the ladder, all alike dreading the possibilities of the dark passage. Donald advanced a step or two, holding the lantern high, so as to throw the rays of light forward. There we saw revealed an outstretched hand. We were used to death, death by violence, but this discovery in that place, our nerves already strained to the utmost, came like a shock. It was a ghastly sight, that one white hand showing there in the ray of light. Dunn gave utterance to a single cry of horror, but Donald and I pressed forward silently, determined to know the truth. A dozen steps and we stood beside the body, able at a glance to comprehend the whole story. Daniels, in his old campaign jacket, his hat beside him, his seamed, rugged face upturned, lay dead at our feet, a knife wound in his throat. Just beyond, with head slightly uplifted on a protuberance of rock lay a woman, her slender figure draped in a faded
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