Having no fear of ghosts, and laughing to himself at the idea of the place being haunted, he determined to search it for Floy.
He went upon the quest the same evening that Otho did, and arriving some time later, went carefully round the house till he saw some gleams of light shining through the shutters.
“She is there!” he thought, exultantly, and went in through a door that Otho had carelessly left open.
Without taking the trouble to explore the lower regions, he made his way to the second story, following the location of the light he had detected.
When his stealthy steps reached the upper corridor he saw, to his amazement, a man stealing along in front of him, guided by a dark lantern.
The next moment he recognized him as Otho Maury, whose steps he had once dogged in the hope of discovering Floy.
“Aha! I was right after all; he is her lover. I will watch and see what comes of this!” he cried to himself, keeping at a safe distance behind Otho.
By this means he became an excited spectator of the tragic scene that followed, and learned how deeply Floy feared and dreaded her villainous persecutor.
He was springing into the room to her assistance, when the frantic thrust of her little dagger struck Maury at random in the neck, and stretched him bleeding at her feet.
At her sobs of terror and remorse—for it was awful to the gentle, white-souled girl to realize that she had taken life, even in self-defense—he cried, cheerily: