tera's funeral was a function of importance. well-nigh the entire population of grimleigh crowded into the little cemetery above the town. some of them were drawn there in true compassion for the terrible fate of the poor girl, others from sheer morbidness. but perhaps the greater part of the people were attracted by the expectation of a riot. it was vaguely understood that, in some inexplicable way, johnson was responsible for tera's death. it was rumoured that if he had not killed her himself--and no one was bold enough to make that assertion--he was at least the means of driving her to destruction. consequently public feeling ran high against the minister, and it was generally thought that if he read the service over his victim there would be trouble. chard himself believed this, and accordingly attended the funeral in person with a posse of constabulary.

however, these precautions proved unnecessary, for johnson was wise enough not to put in an appearance, much less take an active part in the ceremony. whether deterred by the advice of brand, or by the threats of the townspeople, he remained absent, and tera was buried by a minister from poldew, who nearly created a riot on his own account by his sensational references to the death. farmer carwell and his daughter, herbert mayne and miss arnott, were all of them present, and it was with feelings of shame and indignation that they saw the ceremony presided over by a strange divine. when the crowd had dispersed, carwell looked at the newly-made grave for some moments in ominous silence. then he turned to korah brand, who stood by his side. his pride as an elder of bethgamul was hurt.

"if our pastor cannot clear his character," said he, sternly, "he must be removed from the conduct of the congregation. our bethgamul cannot be shadowed thus by shame."

"but surely you don't believe that the pastor is guilty, father?" urged rachel, before brand could speak.

"i do not say that he is guilty; neither do i uphold his innocence," rejoined carwell; "but he is suspected, and he knows it. it is for him to deny such an accusation. his absence to-day only gives colour to the charge. therefore, i say, until he refutes his accusers he must be out off from the congregation of the just."

"so say i, brother carwell," cried brand. "'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.' still, we must give him every chance. let us then call a meeting of our brethren, and demand that he disprove the charge or confess. if he be guiltless, the lord will protect his own."

"i don't believe mr. johnson killed bethiah," said rachel. "nor does herbert."

"oh, i am quite neutral," interposed mayne, hastily. "i am neither for nor against our pastor; though i grant you it was strange that i should have met him where i did on the very night of the girl's disappearance."

"no more strange than that you should have been there yourself, surely?"

"well, really; i suppose you don't mean to infer that i had anything to do with the girl's disappearance? i hardly knew her. any converse i had with her was in your presence."

"rachel is not accusing you, mr. mayne," said brand, coldly. "but she is zealous in support of her pastor, which does her nothing but credit: i trust her zeal may not prove to be misplaced. we must hope for the best."

"do you believe in mr. johnson's guilt?" asked rachel, sharply.

"i neither believe nor disbelieve," replied korah, after a pause. "i know certain facts which are suspicious, and with these i will tax him when he is before us on his trial."

"i will see the elders at once," said farmer carwell. "no time shall be lost in giving mr. johnson an opportunity of clearing himself. let us hope that god in his mercy will avert disgrace from our fold."

"amen to that!" cried brand. "surely the lord will judge in all righteousness. he knoweth the sheep from the goats."

"mr. johnson is not a goat," said rachel, in all seriousness.

meanwhile, jeremiah slade, relieved for the time being from official duty, had gone home to his mid-day meal. now that brand had told him how johnson confessed to the fact of his debts being paid, he was quite confident as to his guilt. the girl had been murdered near carwell's field, and her body hidden in it. near that field johnson had on the night of the girl's death, been met, much agitated. the pearls had been stolen from the dead, and the minister's debts had been paid since that time. finally, there was the cord used to strangle the wretched girl, which had clearly been taken from the pastor's study. all this pointed conclusively to johnson's guilt, and slade had almost made up his mind to arrest him. in the hope, however, of discovering some final and absolutely irrefutable piece of evidence, he decided to wait until he should have made a careful examination of the spot where the body was found. he could then, but only then, move with certainty as to the result.

he felt confident of success, and it was with a rosy vision of himself as a full-blown inspector at poldew that slade entered his home. seated by the kitchen fire, he found his wife in tears. at sight of her husband, these gave way to rage. furious with passion, she jumped up to meet him. apparently something serious had occurred.

"they are back again, you wretch!" shrieked the little woman; "i have seen them myself. how dare you look me in the face?"

"are you crazy, jemima?" growled slade, angry and astonished; "what's come to you, woman?"

"this has come to me, that i know all about it; oh yes, and your zara!"

"ho, ho! so it's them confounded gipsies again, is it?"

"yes, it is. they are back--she is back!"

the constable sat down heavily. he looked anything but comfortable. "what?" he said, nervously; "you don't tell me that pharaoh lee's tribe's come back?"

"as if you didn't know, you villain! i went on to the common myself after the funeral. i heard as they were there; and sure enough i saw them; yes, she's come after you."

"nonsense! don't i tell you i care nothing for the zara girl? ain't i your lawful husband? ain't i tryin' to get you to poldew? what's zara lovell to me?"

"that's just what i'd like to know. perhaps mr. mayne can tell me something about that. any way, i'll ask him."

"better ask the girl herself," sneered slade. "wonder you didn't."

"i didn't see her."

"you didn't see her!" repeated slade, with a sense of relief; "ah, perhaps she ain't there."

"whether she's there or whether she ain't, you come 'ome straight from your business every night, or i'll know the reason why, jeremiah."

"oh, i'll come straight home. like all women, you're making a row about nothing. how am i going to find out all about this murder if you worry me this way?"

"anything fresh?" asked mrs. slade, her curiosity getting the better of her temper.

"nothing since the cord, jemima; but i'm going to examine the place where the body was hidden. maybe there's something there that's been overlooked."

"near pharaoh lee's camp, ain't it, jeremiah?"

"oh, confound it, jemima, you've got that girl on the brain!"

"i only hope you haven't," said mrs. slade, screwing up her mouth; "you deceive me, jeremiah, and i'll tell chard all that you've found out."

"spoil my case, will you, you----"

"i don't care."

"you'll never get to poldew."

"then i'll stay here," snapped jemima, with all the recklessness of a woman prepared to sacrifice anything and everything to gain her end. "if i see you speaking to that slut, zara, i'll go straight to chard. so now you know."

slade did know, as he also knew that even though it were to ruin them both, she would carry out her threat. he spent the best part of his dinner-hour trying to explain his position, and to pacify the perturbed jemima. he succeeded only in rendering her more unreasonable and jealous than ever. mrs. slade was nothing if not feminine, and her argumentative tactics were strikingly so. so soon as one position she took up was assailed and destroyed, she retreated to another, until beaten on that, she returned to her initial standpoint. fearful lest she should drive him through sheer exasperation to use physical violence, slade left the house. when he banged the door, jemima sat down victorious, and proceeded to twist up her hair, which had broken loose in her excitement.

"zara, indeed!" she went on viciously to herself. "i'll tear the eyes out of her if i catch her as much as looking at my 'usband."

and in this strain the good lady continued until she was tired.

meanwhile, jeremiah, chafing with anger at his wife, and at women in general, went on his beat, which for the day happened to be on the beach road. he noticed a new vessel anchored in the harbour--a graceful schooner of some 600 tons. she was a rakish-looking craft, smart and workmanlike in appearance; and slade, giving way to his curiosity for the moment, strolled down to the jetty on the chance of hearing something about her. but before he got that far, a boat with two or three men in her put off from the schooner. she reached the pier about the same time as the policeman. to his surprise, he saw that one of the men in the boat was finland. the young mate sprang lightly up the steps, followed more soberly by a small, sallow-faced man.

"hullo, messmate!" said jack, greeting slade, whom he knew; "here i am again, and yonder is my new ship--the dayspring, ain't she a clipper?"

"pretty enough," said slade, who was grudging of his praise; "but a bit too slight in the build for my taste."

"stuff! what does a lubber like you know of a craft? why, she's going round the horn anyhow, on her way to the south seas. i just dropped in here to say good-bye to my uncle. i'm first mate this trip, and here's my skipper, captain shackel."

slade eyed the small yellow-looking man thoughtfully. he had some skill in reading a face, and he concluded that the skipper was about the last man he would care to trust. in truth, jacob shackel was not prepossessing. he had a mean, rat-like little face, as brown and wrinkled as a walnut-shell, and hardly larger. his body was shrivelled up in a suit of blue serge, apparently several sizes too large for him. his voice was screechy and effeminate. he extended a claw in greeting to slade.

"yes, i'm captain jacob, i am," said he, winking his one eye, for he was possessed of only a single optic, and that red as any ferret's. "well known on the high seas i am. finland's friends is mine."

"includin' 'is sweet'art, i suppose," said jeremiah.

"what the devil d'ye mean?" asked jack, with a frown.

"only that if that's so, your skipper will be as sorry to hear the news as you will."

"news? what? about tera? has she not been found?"

"oh yes, she's been found right enough--found dead."

jack started. "dead? tera dead?"

"dead as a door nail. in your uncle's field we found her--strangled. her funeral was this morning."

"hold up, mate," said shackel, not unkindly, as jack staggered; "you'll fall in."

"tera dead?" gasped finland, in horror. "who killed her?"

"that's just what we're after findin' out."

"was it johnson?"

slade looked suspiciously at the sailor from under his red eyebrows. "i can't answer no questions," said he.

"by gum, it was johnson!" shouted jack; "i see it in your face. the hound, i'll see him! i'll----" without waiting to finish his sentence he ran up the pier like a greyhound.

"guess i'd better go too, or there'll be more murder," said jacob. "jack finland ain't the chap to stick at no trifles when he's on the bust to kill;" and with an activity wonderful for a man of his years, he followed sharp on the track of his first mate.

slade looked after the pair thoughtfully. "he can't 'ave killed the girl," said he to himself. "but he seems to think johnson did. perhaps i'd better follow in case there's trouble. hold on, though, i can't go off my beat. well, i'll just have to trust to that captain; he won't lose his mate through lettin' him commit murder."

events fully justified mr. slade's reasoning. captain jacob caught up with finland, just as the latter was forced to slacken his pace to climb the hill. with much difficulty he persuaded him to abandon his intention.

"but i will have it out with him," said finland, fiercely.

"you'll only get yourself into a mess," said jacob, soothingly; "better let the old man see the job through. i know johnson well--none better. he came home in my ship with the girl from koiau, so if any one can straighten him out, jacob shackel's the man. 'sides, we want money, you fool!"

"you'll not get it from johnson. he's as poor as a rat."

"you lie low and dry up, sonny. i guess i can engineer this job without you sticking your oar in. go and see your uncle and get all you can out of him. your father's in charge this trip."

"get along, then," grumbled jack, ungraciously; "but that johnson's a hound. i'll hammer him black and blue if i catch him, the psalm-singing hypocrite!"

"go slow, sonny. i don't want to lose my mate. you've shipped for koiau, you know. get yourself into trouble here, and i'll up anchor without you, i guess your papa's as smart as most men."

finland shrugged his shoulders and turned away with a sullen resignation, while his skipper continued his way up the hill to johnson's house. shackel knew it almost as well as did its occupant. he had run down repeatedly to see tera at grimleigh. as he climbed the hill he smiled to himself in a sour sort of way. he was evidently well pleased with his thoughts.

"who'd a guessed it?" he chuckled; "and a parson of all things! i guess he'll have to light out for kingdom come if he don't trade my way. lord! here's an a1 chance of victualing the barky."

all day long johnson had remained in his study, in the deepest despondency. he was astonished and in no wise pleased when captain jacob entered. he knew shackel to have the worst of reputations, and he disliked the man. however, he managed to swallow his repugnance, and greeted the little sailor with as much good-will as he could muster. shackel evidently did not intend to waste words. he came straight to the point.

"so that kanaka girl's gone," he said, smiling largely.

"tera? yes, poor soul, she is dead and buried," sighed johnson, sadly.

"murdered, wasn't she?"

"foully murdered, shackel."

"what did you do it for, then?" inquired the captain, dryly.

johnson jumped up so suddenly as to overturn the chair on which he had been seated. "oh! heavens, do you accuse me, too?" he cried in distress.

"'course i do. why!" jacob fastened his evil eye on his victim, "i know you killed the kanaka for them pearls."

"you liar, i did not! i swear----"

"don't swear," said the captain, coolly; "'tain't no good with me. if ye didn't kill the girl, how did ye get the pearls?"

"i haven't got the pearls," said johnson, in a frenzy.

"yah! that won't do for me," jeered shackel. "i want a share of the money."

"man, i tell you i have not got the pearls."

"well," said shackel, "you are a square liar, there's no mistake about that. i saw you myself taking 'em to a london jew dealer's! now, then, ananias!"