Astounded and , the major, with Isabella Dallas clinging to his arm, stood staring at the empty bed. The candles were still burning, but Jaggard had fallen from his chair and was lying, a heap, upon the floor. The one window of the room was wide open, and the wind--now blowing freely--was shaking a loose to and fro. The shock of the discovery was so terrific that Jen for once in his life lost his presence of mind. He was recalled to his senses by the wild voice of Isabella.  
"Maurice! Maurice! Where is he?" she cried, leaving the major and rushing toward the empty bed. "You said he was here--my poor dead love; but I can't see him. Where is he? Where is he?"
 
"God knows!" Jen, turning his horrified gaze on the poor girl. He did not know what to do. Isabella was in a dangerous state of hysteria. She had on but a loose white dressing-gown, and her presence in the house at three o'clock in the morning was enough to overpower Jen's sense of the reasonable, independent of the crowning horror of the missing . At this the much-needed aid came from without. David Sarby rushed into the room.
 
He was half-clothed, pale as the white dress of Isabella Dallas, and evidently, from the wild look in his eyes and the quivering of his lip, badly scared. Stopping short a few paces from the door, he held up the lamp which he carried, to survey the astonishing scene before him. The sight of Jen tongue-tied and immovable, of Isabella weeping on her knees by the bedside, of the bed itself vacant of its dead occupant--all these things were calculated to shock even stronger nerves than those of David Sarby. Nevertheless, after a pause of sheer , he managed to out a question:
 
"Did--did she cry out?" he asked, nodding toward the girl. "I heard a ."
 
His presence and question unlocked the major's tongue.
 
"Yes," he replied, in a hesitating manner, as of one unused to speech. "She came to the library window ten minutes ago, having escaped from the of her mother and Dido. Quite , as you see, and upon seeing our poor dead lad. To her I brought her, but as you see--"
 
"The body is gone!" cried David, hurrying toward the bed.
 
"Gone! gone!" moaned Isabella, rising. "Oh, my dear, dead lover."
 
"Jaggard!"
 
"There," said Jen, pointing to the inanimate form of his old servant. "He is asleep or dead."
 
"Dead!" Isabella, at the word, "Maurice dead!"
 
"We must alarm the house," cried Sarby, in a horrified tone, and thereupon walked swiftly toward the door. But before he could reach it the major, having recovered his presence of mind, seized him by the arm.
 
"No, no!" said Jen, hastily. "Do not bring any one here as yet, David. We must think of this poor girl. Take her home at once. When you are both out of the house I shall give the alarm. You understand--no one must know that Miss Dallas has been in my house at this hour."
 
"I quite agree with you," said David, simply, and, turning to Isabella, he took her gently by the hand. "Come, Miss Dallas. This is no place for you."
 
"Maurice!" muttered Isabella, looking piteously at him.
 
"Maurice is not here. Come, Miss Dallas, let me take you back to your mother."
 
"My mother is so cruel," said Isabella in a low tone, "and I feel so ill," she continued, raising her hand to her loose hair. "Yes, yes; I must go home. But Maurice--my dear Maurice."
 
"I shall tell you all about it to-morrow," answered Jen, , and led her out of the room. "At the present moment you must go home with Mr. Sarby. David, there is a loose cloak of mine in the hall. Wrap it round her and come into the library. It is best that she should leave in the way she came."
 
David did as he was told, and snatched up his own ulster after wrapping up Isabella. In the library they found the major reopening the of the window, which he had closed on the girl's entry. When he flung them aside a of wind blew inward, sprinkling him with moisture.
 
"Rain," said Jen, drawing back, "All the better; there will be no spies about, and you can take Miss Dallas home without being observed."
 
Taking the girl by the hand, David led her toward the window. She was in a half-dazed condition, the result of the strong excitement which had her to make this midnight visit, and her nerves being thus dulled, she surrendered herself passively to the guidance of David. Only at the window did she pause and look at the major.
 
"You must find out what has become of my dear Maurice's body," she said, quietly.
 
"I promise you," replied Jen, with a look of stern determination in his face.
 
"And you will let me know?"
 
"I promise you," said Jen again. "Please go. Miss Dallas. There is no time to be lost, and you must not be found here."
 
Thus , Isabella stepped out into the night, and in a moment or so she was swallowed up in the darkness with her companion. Left alone, the major closed the window, bolted and barred the shutters, and then hastened back to the death , where he rang the bell. In a few minutes the footman, half-dressed and half-asleep, made his appearance; then came the policeman hastily from the kitchen; finally, as the bell still continued ringing, all the other servants, male and female, poured into the room. A single glance showed them what had occurred--the insensible Jaggard, the empty bed, the open window. A babel of voices ensued.
 
"Silence, all of you," cried Jen, . "We must act, not talk. Two of you take Jaggard to his room. Tell the to ride at once to Deanminster for Dr. Etwald and Arkel. Sampson," he added, turning to the policeman, who was staring at the empty bed, "rouse yourself. Take lanterns and search for footmarks. There must have been more than one person to carry off a dead body."
 
These directions were obeyed at once. The house, the grounds, the whole wild night with its driving tempest became radiant with lights and alive with terrified men. That a human being should be murdered was ghastly without this crowning horror of a missing body coming after. Every man looked on his fellow with suspicion; in the yellow light of the lanterns, dimly through the steady downpour of rain, could be seen faces and scared expressions. And while the men folk the house, the park, and the adjacent lanes environing "Ashantee," the female servants, unnerved and hysterical, crowded together in the kitchen, whispering over hastily prepared tea. It was a wild night, and full of the vague horrors of death and mystery.
 
Etwald came immediately from Deanminster in company with Arkel, whom this last extraordinary event took by surprise. He questioned Sampson--the young policeman left in charge--he searched the chamber of death, stepped out of the window and across the lawn toward the belt of wh............