Five Thousand Dollars Reward | Page 3

to depart from the Vane cottage.
"Then you will not stay?"
Tears actually stood in the blue eyes of Miss Vane.
"Good gracious! Vic, what a baby," and he laughed aloud.
He stepped to her side, however, and as her face pale, pretty, even though babyish, was upturned to his he could not resist the temptation, and he bent and kissed her full upon the pouting lips.
Then a pair of soft arms were wound quickly about his neck, and a voice whispered softly:
"Why can't you stay with me always, August?"
He tore himself loose instantly, a guilty feeling entering his heart. He was acting the hypocrite with a vengeance, and it did not agree with his honorable nature.
"Confound it, Miss Vane, what a tease you are. There comes your brother now, and I must away."
"You will call when you return from your hunt?"
"Perhaps."
He then passed outside.
A single horseman was riding slowly down the forest road toward the village.
He must needs pass the cottage.
August Bordine had called the traveler Victoria's brother. He saw his mistake as he passed out, but did not deem it necessary to rectify it.
He swung his rifle to his shoulder, and moved, with a long stride, toward the nearest point of woods.
Vaulting a fence, he crossed a bit of clearing and entered a clump of trees.
Here he paused and looked back.
The strange horseman had halted at the cottage, and was conversing with Victoria.
Bordine saw him lift his hat politely, and knew that it was no tramp this time who craved favor at the cottage.
"I don't think the girl will require my presence this time," muttered the young engineer.
She did, however, as the sequel proved.
Bordine, whistling softly, turned away and plunged deeply into the forest.

CHAPTER II
.
MURDER.
For several hours August Bordine scoured the woods in search of game. His hunt proved unsuccessful, however, and with weary limbs and anything but pleasant mood he retraced his steps.
At length he stood in the road within sight of the Vane cottage.
Everything looked quiet and peaceful about the place.
No smoke curled up from the kitchen chimney, although the sun was low in the western heavens.
"Vic hasn't begun to prepare supper it seems," muttered Bordine. "Wonder if I had best go up that way and call. Of course Ransom has returned. I believe I will and inquire who the gentleman was who called just as I was entering the woods."
And so Bordine turned his steps in the direction of the Vane cottage. The front door was closed, and a dead silence reigned over the place as he came up.
"Wonder if the folks are gone."
Bordine rapped.
No answer was vouchsafed.
He rapped again.
Silence profound as the grave.
"Well, there seems nobody at home. Vic sometimes occupies the back porch with the cat and her book; I will see."
He walks swiftly around the house.
He came to a sudden stand as he gained the broad side porch of the cottage.
He stood staring, struck dumb with an awful, deadly fear. Then he moved forward a step.
His eye fell on the interior of the porch, and he started and stopped.
What was it that held his steps?
[Illustration: HIS EYE FELL ON THE INTERIOR OF THE PORCH, AND HE STARTED AND STOPPED.]
An object on the ground--Victoria Vane, lying at full length, with open, staring eyes, her masses of yellow hair stained a horrible crimson.
She lay within the porch, while at her side was a basket overturned, its contents scattered about, as though she had been holding it in her lap at the time of the accident.
Was it an accident?
As soon as he could recover his self-possession, August Bordine sat down his gun and bent over the prostrate girl.
There was a subdued horror in his eyes as he gazed.
Blood had trickled out in a little pool from a wound in her neck, that wound had proved the death of poor Victoria Vane.
Who had made it?
Suicide!
This was the young man's first thought--yet he soon convinced himself that this was not likely.
A letter, torn and blood-stained, lay near. August picked it from the ground and examined it. It proved to be from a gentleman, and was written in a friendly, not to say lover-like strain. At the bottom was signed a name, "A. Bor----"
The latter part of the name was completely obliterated by a blot of blood.
While the young engineer stood in an attitude of shocked irresolution, a step sounded on the gravel behind him.
He turned to look into the face of a young man whose countenance showed resemblance to the dead girl.
"My God! what is this?"
The new-comer darted forward, gazed for a moment into the dead face of poor Victoria, then staggered back, clutching the arm of August Bordine to save himself from falling.
"Suicide, I fear," answered Bordine for lack of words.
"Suicide! My soul, is Victoria dead?"
Then the last comer knelt down beside the prostrate girl, and lifted her golden head