CHAPTER XVIII.

otheenvelope,aknockcametothedoor,andhisvaletinformedhimthatthehead-keeperwishedtoseehim.Hefrownedandbithislip.“Sendhimin,”hemuttered,aftersomemoments’hesitation. Assoonasthemanentered,Dorianpulledhischequebookoutofadrawerandspreaditoutbeforehim. “Isupposeyouhavecomeabouttheunfortunateaccidentofthismorning,Thornton?”hesaid,takingupapen. “Yes,sir,”answeredthegamekeeper. “Wasthepoorfellowmarried?Hadheanypeopledependentonhim?”askedDorian,lookingbored.“Ifso,Ishouldnotlikethemtobeleftinwant,andwillsendthemanysumofmoneyyoumaythinknecessary.” “Wedon’tknowwhoheis,sir.ThatiswhatItookthelibertyofcomingtoyouabout.” “Don’tknowwhoheis?”saidDorian,listlessly.“Whatdoyoumean?Wasn’theoneofyourmen?” “No,sir.Neversawhimbefore.Seemslikeasailor,sir.” ThependroppedfromDorianGray’shand,andhefeltasifhishearthadsuddenlystoppedbeating.“Asailor?”hecriedout.“Didyousayasailor?” “Yes,sir.Helooksasifhehadbeenasortofsailortattooedonbotharms,andthatkindofthing.” “Wasthereanythingfoundonhim?”saidDorian,leaningforwardandlookingatthemanwithstartledeyes.“Anythingthatwouldtellhisname?” “Somemoney,sir—notmuch,andasix-shooter.Therewasnonameofanykind.Adecent-lookingman,sir,butrough-like.Asortofsailorwethink.” Dorianstartedtohisfeet.Aterriblehopeflutteredpasthim.Heclutchedatitmadly.“Whereisthebody?”heexclaimed.“Quick!Imustseeitatonce.” “ItisinanemptystableintheHomeFarm,sir.Thefolkdon’tliketohavethatsortofthingintheirhouses.Theysayacorpsebringsbadluck.” “TheHomeFarm!Gothereatonceandmeetme.Telloneofthegroomstobringmyhorseround.No.Nevermind.I’llgotothestablesmyself.Itwillsavetime.” Inlessthanaquarterofanhour,DorianGraywasgallopingdownthelongavenueashardashecouldgo.Thetreesseemedtosweeppasthiminspectralprocession,andwildshadowstoflingthemselvesacrosshispath.Oncethemareswervedatawhitegate-postandnearlythrewhim.Helashedheracrosstheneckwithhiscrop.Sheclefttheduskyairlikeanarrow.Thestonesflewfromherhoofs. AtlasthereachedtheHomeFarm.Twomenwereloiteringintheyard.Heleapedfromthesaddleandthrewthereinstooneofthem.Inthefartheststablealightwasglimmering.Somethingseemedtotellhimthatthebodywasthere,andhehurriedtothedoorandputhishanduponthelatch. Therehepausedforamoment,feelingthathewasonthebrinkofadiscoverythatwouldeithermakeormarhislife.Thenhethrustthedooropenandentered. Onaheapofsackinginthefarcornerwaslyingthedeadbodyofamandressedinacoarseshirtandapairofbluetrousers.Aspottedhandkerchiefhadbeenplacedovertheface.Acoarsecandle,stuckinabottle,sputteredbesideit. DorianGrayshuddered.Hefeltthathiscouldnotbethehandtotakethehandkerchiefaway,andcalledouttooneofthefarm-servantstocometohim. “Takethatthingofftheface.Iwishtoseeit,”hesaid,clutchingatthedoor-postforsupport. Whenthefarm-servanthaddoneso,hesteppedforward.Acryofjoybrokefromhislips.ThemanwhohadbeenshotinthethicketwasJamesVane. Hestoodthereforsomeminuteslookingatthedeadbody.Asherodehome,hiseyeswerefulloftears,forheknewhewassafe.