"Well, Ransom."
"Assist me to carry poor Vic--"
He could go no further, but moved with tear-dimmed eyes toward the dead.
August bent to the work without further speech, and assisted the brother
to move the body into the house to the pleasant front bed-room, the
especial resort of the poor girl in life. Here they placed her on the
low, neatly-covered bed, and then Bordine turned away, leaving brother
and sister in solemn, silent companionship.
That was the saddest moment of August Bordine's life.
Not even when his own sister died six years before had he felt the solemn
weight of sadness more deeply. Victoria had been his friend. She was not
over-bright, yet she was kind and tender of heart. He felt her death
deeply, and found himself wondering who could have been so wicked as to
murder a pretty girl, who he believed, had not an enemy in the wide
world.
There was something of mystery about the affair.
Once outside Bordine examined the ground closely. He saw nothing of the
letter, and was about to move away, when a shadow fell athwart the grass
giving him a sudden start.
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