"It's a terrible business! But the murderer's caught!" "Caught is he?
Who's got him ?" "Death!" And Helmsley, lifting his cap, stood bareheaded in the moonlight.

"He'll never escape again!" The constable looked amazed and a little awed.
"Death?
Why, I heard it was that wild gypsy, Tom o' the Gleam----" "So it was,"-- said Helmsley, gently,--"and Tom o' the Gleam is dead!" "No! Don't say that!" ejaculated the constable with real concern.
"There's a lot of good in Tom! I shouldn't like to think he's gone!" "You'll find it's true," said Helmsley.

"And perhaps, when you get all the details, you'll think it for the best.

Good-night!" "Are you staying in Dunster ?" queried the officer with a keen glance.
"No.

I'm moving on." And Helmsley smiled wearily as he again said--"Good-night!" He walked steadily, though slowly, through the sleeping town, and passed out of it.