Across the little bridge the dog rushed with, as I felt certain, some fixed purpose in his mind. The snow was pretty deep, and he sank into it, but we followed, and he led us into the heart of the wood, where there was a but used in the summer as a summer-house. The door of this house was also open, which drew from my companion another exclamation of surprise. The dog tore into the house, and immediately set up a violent howling. In a few moments we, too, had entered, and there on the floor lay the dead body of Mr. Champel, and the faithful and distressed hound was l*****g the cold, ghastly face, and trying in its dumb distress to warm it into life again.
My first thought was to determine if possible how the unfortunate gentleman had come by his death, and stooping down for that purpose,
