Movatterモバイル変換

I came out of Penthouse Prison on a certain Monday morning in May. Letthere be no misunderstanding about it; I came out by way of the roof.And the time was four in the morning; I heard the big clock over theentrance gates chime in a dull, heavy, sleepy fashion as I lay crouchedon the roof under shadow of the big tower at the north end, and lookedabout me.

Looking back at it now, it seems like a dream, and even then I could notrealise exactly how it had happened. All I know is that there had beenan alarm of fire earlier in the night, and a great running to and fro ofwarders, and a battering at doors by frantic locked-in men, with oaths,and threats, and shrieks. The smell of burning wood had reached mynostrils, and little whiffs and wreaths of smoke had drifted in throughthe ventilator in my door, before that door was opened, and I foundmyself huddled outside in the long corridor with other fellow-captives.And at that time I had not thought of escaping at all, probably from thefact that I was too frightened to do anything but obey orders.

But it came about that, even in that well-conducted prison, somethinghad gone wrong with the fire-hose; and it became a matter of a greatpassing of buckets from hand to hand, and I, as a trusted prisoner, anda model one, too, was put at the end of the line that was the leastguarded. Smoke was all about me, and I could only see the faces ofconvicts and warders looming at me through the haze, indistinctly. Ihanded the buckets mechanically, as I had done everything else in thatplace during the few months I had been there.

I heard an order shouted in the distance, and I lost the faces that hadseemed to be so near to me; the fire had broken out in a fresh place,and there was a sudden call for help. I hesitated—the last of the lineof men—for a moment; then I set down my bucket, and turned in theopposite direction and ran for it. I knew where there was a flight ofstairs; I guessed that one particular door I had seen but once would beopen; the rest I left to chance. With my heart thumping madly I fled upthe stairs, and flung myself against the door; it yielded, and Istumbled through on to the roof of the prison.

I could hear down below me a great hubbub, but the roar of the flameshad subsided somewhat, and I knew that the fire had been conquered. Thatmeant for me a shorter time in which to make good my escape. I wentslipping and sliding along the roof, half wishing myself back inside theprison, and wondering how I should get from that dizzy height to theground. Fortunately I was young, and fit, and strong, and they had putme to the hardest work in the prison for those first months, therebyhardening my muscles to their own undoing; and I was active as a cat.After lying on the roof for what seemed a long time—until, in fact, thehubbub below had almost subsided entirely—I determined that I couldafford to wait no longer. I raised my head where I lay and peered overthe edge, as I have said, just as the great clock struck four.

I looked straight into the open mouth of a rain-water pipe a few inchesbelow me. It was almost full daylight by this time, but a hazy, mistymorning. I worked my way to the very edge of the roof, and lay along it;then I got my arms over the edge and gripped the broad top of the pipe.There could be no half measures about such a matter; I threw myself overbodily, and dropped to the stretch of my arms, and hung there. Then Iquickly lowered one hand and gripped the smooth, round pipe, and beganto slide down. I remember wondering if by some fatality I should dropinto the arms of an expectant warder.

But that didn't happen. I reached the ground in safety and crouchedthere, waiting; there was still the outer wall to scale. In that I wasless fortunate, for although in the grey light I made the circuit of itinside twice over, I failed to discover anything by which I could mount.But at last I came upon a shed that was used for storing the oakum,picked and unpicked; it had a heavy padlock on the wooden door, and theroof of the shed inclined at an angle against the high wall. It was myonly chance, and there was but one way to do it.

I stepped back a few paces, and took a running leap for the edge of theroof, jumping for the padlock. I tried three times, and the third time Igot my foot upon the padlock, and caught the gutter with my hands.Exerting all my strength, I drew myself up until I lay flat upon theshelving roof of the shed, scrambled up that, and stood upright againstthe outer wall, with the topmost stones about a foot above the reach ofmy hands.

That was the most ticklish work of all, because the first time I triedto make a jump for the top of the wall I slipped, and nearly rolled offthe sloping roof altogether. The second time I was more successful, andI got my fingers firmly hitched on to the top of the wall. I hung therefor a moment, fully expecting that I should have to let go; but I hearda shout—or thought I heard one—from the direction of the prison, andthat urged me on as nothing else could have done. I drew myself up untilI lay flat on the top of the wall, and then I rolled over into freedom.

Incidentally in my hurry I rolled over on to a particularly hard road,without much care how I fell. I picked myself up and looked about me,and began for the first time to realise my desperate situation. Whatearthly chance was there for me, clad as I was in convict garb, in awild country place, at something after four o'clock in the morning? Iwas branded before all men; I was a pariah, to be captured by hook or bycrook; the hand of the meanest thing I might meet would legitimately beagainst me.

But then I was only five-and-twenty, and the coming day had in it apromise of sweetness and of beauty—and I was free! Even while I castabout in my mind to know what I should do, I know that I rejoiced in mystrength and in my young manhood; I know that I could have grappledalmost gleefully with any adverse fate that might have risen up againstme. But I recognised that the first thing to do would be to make forcover of some kind, until I could make shift to get a change ofclothing, or to decide after my hurried flight what the next move was tobe.

After going some little way I dropped down into a ditch, and looked backat the prison. It stood up grim and silent against the morning sky, andthere was now no sign of any disturbance about it. Evidently for thepresent I had not been missed; only later would come a mustering of theprisoners, and my number would be called, and there would be no answer.That gave me time, but not time enough. I determined to make my wayacross country as quickly as I could before the world was astir, and soput as great a distance as possible between myself and the prison.

But by the time I had run a few miles, and could see in the neardistance the roofs of cottages, I began to realise that in the countrypeople have a bad habit of rising at a most unearthly hour. It was butlittle after five o'clock, and yet already smoke was coming from cottagechimneys; more than once I had a narrow squeak of it, in coming almostface to face with some labourer trudging early to his work in thefields. Daylight was not my time, it was evident; I must wait for thefriendly darkness, even though I waited hungry.

The record of a great part of that day is easily set down. I lay perduin a little wood, where, by raising my head, I could see out on to thebroad highway that was presently in some indefinite fashion to set me onthe greater road for freedom. All day long the sun blazed down on thatroad, and all day long from my hiding-place I watched vehicles andpedestrians passing to and fro; I had much time for thought. Once somelittle children toddled down hand-in-hand into the wood, and began topick flowers near where I lay hidden; that was the first sight ofanything beautiful I had had for a good long time, as you shallpresently understand. Despite the danger to myself, if they should haveseen me and raised any alarm, I was sorry enough when they toddled awayagain.

There was so much to be thought about, as I lay there on my face,plucking at the cool green grasses, and drinking in the beauty of thewood. For I was but five-and-twenty, and yet had never known really whatlife was like. I had been shut away all my days in a prison, almost asgrim and as bad as that from which I had this day escaped; and I hadleft it for that greater prison where they branded men and set them totoil like beasts.

My earliest recollections had been of my uncle—Zabdiel Blowfield. Iseemed to have a vision of him when I was very, very small, and when Ilay quaking in a big bed in a horrible great room, bending over me, andflaring a candle at me, as though with the amiable intention of startingmy night's rest well with a personal nightmare. Uncle Zabdiel hadbrought me up. It seems that I was left on his hands when I was a merechild; I easily developed and degenerated into his slave. At the age offourteen I knew no more of the world than a baby of fourteen months, andwhat smattering of education I had had was pressed then into my uncle'sservice; I became his clerk.

He lived in a great house near Barnet, and from there he conducted hisbusiness. It was a paying business, and although I touched at first onlythe fringe of it, I came to understand that Zabdiel Blowfield wassomething of a human spider, gathering into his clutches any number offools who had money to lose, together with others who wanted money, andwere prepared to pay a price for it. He taught me his business, or justso much of it as should make me useful in the drudgery of it; and, as ithappened, he taught me too much.

I had ten years of that slavery—ten years, during which I grew tomanhood, and to strength and vigour. For while he thought he suppressedme, and while, as a matter of fact, he half-starved me, and dressed mein his own cast-off clothing, and kept my young nose to the grindstoneof his business, I contrived, within the last year or so at least, tolead something of a double life. I was young, and that alone shall pleadmy excuse. If another excuse were wanted, it might be summed up inthis: that the world called me—that world that was a gloriousuncertainty, of which I knew nothing and longed to know a great deal.

Uncle Zabdiel regarded me as very much of a poor fool; it never enteredinto his head for a moment to suspect the machine he had taught to docertain mechanical things. But I, who never had a penny for my own,constantly had gold passing through my fingers, and gold spelt a way outinto the great world. I was tempted, and I fell; it was quite easy toalter the books.

I had two years of it. They were two years during which I worked as hardas ever during the day, and escaped from that prison when darkness hadfallen. I always contrived to get back before the dawn, or before myuncle had come into the place he called his office; and by that time Ihad changed back into the shabby, apparently broken, creature he knewfor his slave. For the rest I did nothing very vicious; but I sawsomething of the world outside, and I spent what I could get of myuncle's money.

The blow fell, as I might have expected—and that, too, by the merestchance. I had grown reckless; there seemed no possibility of my beingfound out. But my Uncle Zabdiel happened to light upon a something thatmade him suspicious, and from that he went to something else. Withoutsaying a word to me, he must have unwound the tangle slowly bit by bit,until it stood out before him clearly; and then he took to watching.

I shall never forget the morning when he caught me. I got into myaccustomed window, in those gayer clothes I affected in my briefholidays, and I came face to face with the old man in my room. He wassitting on the side of the bed, with his black skull-cap thrust on theback of his head, and with his chin resting on his stick; and for a longtime after I knew the game was up he neither spoke nor moved. As forme, I had had my good time, and I simply wondered in a dull fashion whathe was going to do.

"You needn't say anything, Norton Hyde," said Uncle Zabdiel at last. "Iknow quite as much as you can tell me, and perhaps a little more. You'rean ungrateful dog, and like other ungrateful dogs you shall bepunished."

"Haven't I fed you, lodged you, looked after you?" he snapped out."Where would you have been, but for me?"

"I might have been a better man," I answered him. "I've slaved for youfor ten long years, and you've done your best to starve me, body andsoul. I've taken your money, but it isn't as much as you'd have had topay me in those ten years, if I'd been some poor devil of a clerkindependent of you!"

"We won't bandy words," said my uncle, getting up from my bed. "Go tobed; I'll decide what to do with you in the morning."

Now, wisely speaking, of course, I ought to have made good my escapethat night. But there was a certain bravado in me—a certain feeling,however wrong, that I was justified to an extent in what I had done—forthe labourer is worthy of his hire. So I went to bed, and awaited themorning with what confidence I could. Being young, I slept soundly.

I was the only living relative of Zabdiel Blowfield, and one would havethought—one, at least, who did not know him—that he would have shownsome mercy. But mercy was not in his nature, and I had wounded the manin that tenderest part of him—the pocket. Incredible as it may seem, Iwas handed over to justice on a charge of forgery and falsification ofbooks, and in due course I stood my trial, with my uncle as the chiefwitness against me.

Uncle Zabdiel made a very excellent witness, too, from the point of viewof the prosecution. I—Norton Hyde—stood in the dock, I flatter myself,rather a fine figure of a young man, tall, and straight, anddark-haired; the prosecutor—and a reluctant one at that—stood bowed,and old, and trembling, and told the story of my ingratitude. He hadbrought me up, and he had educated me; he had fed, and clothed, andlodged me; but for him I must have died ignominiously long before. And Ihad robbed him, and had spent his money in riotous living. He wept whilehe told the tale, for the loss of the money was a greater thing thanmost men would suppose.

The limb of the law he had retained for the prosecution had a separatecut at me on his account. According to that gentleman I was a monster; Iwould have robbed a church; there was scarcely any crime in the calendarof which I would not have been capable. It was plainly suggested thatthe best thing that could happen to society would be to get me out ofthe way for as many years as possible.

The judge took up the case on something of the same lines. He preached aneat little sermon on the sin of ingratitude, and incidentally wonderedwhat the youth of the country were coming to in these degenerate days;he left me with confidence to a jury of respectable citizens, who were,I was convinced, every man Jack of them, fathers of families. I wasdoomed from the beginning, and I refused to say anything in my owndefence.

So they packed me off quietly out of the way for ten years; and UncleZabdiel, I have no doubt, went back to his old house, and thereafterengaged a clerk at a starvation wage, and kept a pretty close eye uponhim. I only know that, so far as I was concerned, he sidled up to me asI was leaving the dock, and whispered, with a leer—

Perhaps I had not realised the tragedy of the business at that time, forit must be understood that I had not in any sense of the word lived.Such small excursions as I had made into life had been but mere dippingsinto the great sea of it; of life itself I knew nothing. And now theywere to shut me away for ten years—or a little less, if I behavedmyself with decorum—and after that I was to be given an opportunity tomake a real start, if the gods were kind to me.

However, it is fair to say that up to the actual moment of my escapefrom Penthouse Prison I had accepted my fate with some measure ofresignation. I had enough to eat, and work for my hands, and I sleptwell; in that sense I was a young and healthy animal, with a past thathad not been interesting, and a future about which I did not care tothink. But as I lay in the wood all that long day better thoughts cameto me; I had hopes and desires such as I had not had before. I saw in amental vision sweet country places, and fair homes, and decent men andwomen; I was to meet and touch them all some day, when I had workedmyself out of this present tangle. Alas! I did not then know how much Iwas to go through first!

I had lain so long, with but the smallest idea of where I actually was,and with a ravening hunger upon me, that I had actually seen menreturning from their work to their homes in the late afternoon before Ibestirred myself to think of what I was to do. More than once, as I laythere, I had seen, speeding along the great road above me, motor-carsthat annihilated space, and were gone in a cloud of dust. I had aridiculous feeling that if I were nimble enough I might manage to boardone of those, and so get away beyond the reach of pursuit. For alwaysthe great prison menaced me, standing as it did within a mile or two ofwhere I lay. I knew that the pursuit must already have started; Iwondered that I had not yet seen a warder.

And then came deliverance. You may say it was miraculous, if you will; Ican only set down here the fact as it happened. I saw in the distance,winding down a long hill, a grey monster scarcely darker than the roadover which it swept, and I knew without the telling that the greymonster was a racing car. As it drew nearer I saw that it had asharpened front like an inverted boat, and behind that sharpened frontcrouched a man, with his hands upon the wheel and his face masked byhideous goggles. He swept down towards the place where I lay at aterrific pace, and, half in wonder at the sight, and half fascinated byit, I drew myself forward through the bushes until I lay at the veryside of the road, with my chin uplifted and my face literally peeringthrough the hedge.

The grey monster came on and on, and the curious thing was that itslackened speed a little as it got near to me, so that I saw the dustyoutlines of it, and the great bulk of it set low between its wheels, andcaught the sound of its sobbing breath. And then it stopped at the sideof the road, so near to me that I could almost have stretched out a handand touched the nearest wheel.

The man got down stiffly out of his seat, and thrust the goggles up overhis cap and began to pull off his driving-gloves. Something had gonewrong with the monster, and I heard the man heave a quick sigh as hebent down to examine the machinery. For a little time his headdisappeared among the works, and then, with a grunt of relief, hestraightened himself and began pulling on his gloves; and so, by amiracle, turning his head a little, looked down into my upturned face.

He was a youngish man with a thin, keen, shaven face, tight-lipped andclear-eyed. He had on a long grey coat, buttoned close about him, andhis appearance, with the cap drawn down over his ears and the gogglesset on the front of it, was not altogether prepossessing. But the manlooked a sportsman, and somehow or other I was attracted to him.Scarcely knowing what I did, I glanced to right and left along the road,and then rose to my feet in the ditch.

He gave a low whistle, and nodded slowly, finished pulling on hisgloves, and set his gloved hands against his sides. "Hullo, my friend,"he said at last, "I heard about you on the hill up yonder. You're wantedbadly."

"I know that," I said huskily, for my throat was dry, alike from thirstand from a new fear that had sprung up in me. "Perhaps you'd like todrive me back to meet them."

"If you're anxious," he retorted, with a laugh. "Only it happens thatI'm not that sort. It would be playing it rather low down to do that,wouldn't it?"

"I should think so," I said, answering his laugh with another that hadsomething of a sob in it.

"Nothing half so bad as that," I answered him. "I stole some money, andhad a good time; now I've been paying the penalty. I've done nearly oneout of my ten years."

He turned away abruptly, and I heard him mutter something which soundedlike "Poor devil!" but I would not be sure of that. Then, after bendingfor a moment again over his car, he said, without looking up at me, "Itake it you'd like to get out of this part of the country, ifpossible?"

He looked along the lines of the grey monster, and laid his hand uponthe machine affectionately. "Then you can't do better than travel withme," he said. "I can swing you along at a pace that'll knock the breathout of you if you're not used to it, and I can drop you a hundred milesor so along the road. There's no one in sight; get in. Here's a sparepair of goggles."

I adjusted the goggles with a shaking hand, and tried to thank him. Hehad tossed a short grey coat to me, and that I put about my shoulders.Almost before I was in the seat beside him the grey car began to move,and then I saw the landscape slipping past us in two streaks. I triedonce or twice to speak, but the words were driven back into my mouth,and I could not get anything articulate out.

My recollection of that journey is dim and obscure. I only know that nowand then, as we flew along, the man jerked out questions at me, and sodiscovered that I had had nothing to eat all day, and was practicallyfamished. He slowed down the car and showed me where, in a tin caseunder my feet, were some sandwiches and a flask; and I took insandwiches and dust gratefully enough for the next few miles, and gulpeddown a little out of the flask. The houses were beginning to be morefrequent, and we met more vehicles on the road, when presently he sloweddown to light his lamps.

"At what particular spot would you like to be dropped?" he asked, as hecame round my side of the car and bent down over the lamp there. "Choosefor yourself."

I told him I hardly knew; I think then, for the first time, I realisedthat I was in as bad a case as ever, and that, save for my short coatand the goggles, I was clad exactly as when I had dropped over myprison wall. I think I told him that all places were alike to me, andthat I would leave it to him.

So we went on again at a diminishing speed, with the motor horn soundingcontinuously; flashed through an outlying village or two, until I saw,something to my horror, that the man was drawing into London. I turnedto him to protest, but he smiled and shook his head.

"Don't you worry; I'm going to see you through this—just for the sportof the thing," he said, raising his voice to a shout, so that he mightbe heard above the roar of the flying wheels. "I'm going to take youslap through London to my place, and I'm going to give you a change ofclothes and some food. To-morrow, if you like, I'll whack you down tothe coast, and ship you off somewhere. You're as safe as houses with me;I've taken an interest in you."

I could only sit still, and wonder what good providence had suddenlytossed this man into my world to do this thing for me. I could havekissed his hands; I could have worshipped him, as one might worship agod. I felt that my troubles were over; for the first time in all mylife I had someone to lean upon, someone willing and anxious to help me.

And then as suddenly the whole thing came to an end. We had got througha village in safety, and had swung at a terrific pace round a corner,and there was a huge hay-waggon in the very middle of the road. Therewas no time to pull up, and the road was too narrow to allow the carfree passage on either side. I heard the man beside me give a gasp as hebent over his wheel, and then we swerved to the right, and flew up thebank at the side of the road, in a mad endeavour to pass the waggon.

We shot past it somehow, and I thought we should drop to the road again;instead, the car continued up the bank, seemed to hang there for amoment, even at the terrific pace we were going, and then began to turnover. I say began to turn over because in that fraction of a secondevents seemed to take hours to finish. I know I jumped, and landed allin a heap, and seemed to see, as I fell, the car before me turning over;and then for a moment or two I knew nothing.

When I recovered consciousness I got slowly to my knees, and lookedabout me. My head ached fearfully, but I seemed to have no very greatinjuries. A dozen yards in front of me lay the grey monster, with threewheels left to it, and those three upreared helplessly in the air. Myfriend the driver I could not see anywhere. I staggered to my feet,relieved to find that I could walk, and went forward to the car; andthere, on the other side of it, lay my friend, doubled up andunconscious. He, too, seemed to have escaped any very great injury as bya miracle. I straightened him out and touched him here and there, in thehope to discover if any bones were broken; he only groaned a little, andeven that sound was cheering. The man was not dead.

I had no thought of my own safety until I heard the rumble of wheels,and saw the cause of all the disaster—that hay-waggon—coming towardsme. From the opposite direction, too, I heard the sharp toot-toot of amotor horn, and knew that help was coming. And then, for the first time,I realised that that help was not for me, and that I must not remainwhere I was a moment longer: for if my situation had been bad before, itwas now truly frightful. I was somewhere in the neighbourhood ofLondon—near to a northern suburb—and I was in convict garb, partiallyconcealed by a short grey coat, and I was hatless.

Fortunately for me, by this time it was dark, and I had only seen thathay-waggon looming up, as it were, against the evening sky. Knowing thatmy friend must soon receive better help than I could give him, Idecided that that episode in my life at least was closed. I slipped offmy goggles and dropped them beside him; then, after a momentary glanceround, I decided to try for a fence at one side, opposite that bank thathad been our undoing. It was not very high, just within reach of myhands. I made a jump for the top and scrambled over, and dropped amongsome undergrowth on the further side of it.

There is a humorous side to everything; even in my plight I wascompelled to laugh at what I now saw through a chink in the fence. Ipeered out to see what became of my friend, and as I did so I saw thatanother motor-car had stopped by the overturned one, and that the driverhad got down. Greatly to my relief I saw my friend sit up and stareabout him; even saw him smile a little ruefully at the sight of his greymonster in its present condition. And then, although I could not hearwhat he said, I saw that he was asking questions eagerly about me.

For he had lost me entirely; it was evident that the poor fellow was ina great state of perplexity. I sincerely hope that some day he may readthese lines, and so may come to an understanding of what happened to me;I heartily wished, as I looked through the fence then, that I could haverelieved his perplexity. It was evident that after his accident he wasnot at all sure whether he had left me on the road at some place orother, or whether by a miracle I had been in some fashion snatched offthe earth, and so snatched out of my predicament. As I feared, however,that he and the other man, together with the driver of the waggon, mightbegin some regular search for me, I decided that I could no longerremain where I was. I began to walk away, through thick rank grass andamong trees, going cautiously, and wondering where I was.

In truth I was so shaken that I staggered and swayed a little as Iwalked. I tried to get my ideas into some order, that I might makemyself understand what was the best thing for me to do. I came to theconclusion that I must first get a change of clothing; there was no hopefor me unless I could do that. By this time telegraph wires would havecarried messages to all parts describing me, and those messages wouldhave travelled much faster even than that unfortunate racing car bywhich I had come so far. If I could break into a house, and by somegreat good chance find clothing that would fit me, all might be well.But at the moment I stood marked and branded for all men to discover.

Somewhat to my relief and also to my dismay, I found presently that Iwas walking in the grounds of a private house. I came upon a largeartificial lake or pond, with stone seats dotted about here and therenear the margin of it; the stone seats were green and brown with mossand climbing plants that had been allowed to work their will upon them.In fact, all the grounds had a neglected appearance, and so had thehouse, too, when presently I came to it. I was just making up my mindwhich was the best window by which I might effect an entry, when I heardvoices quite near to me, and dropped at once on an instinct, and laystill.

The two figures, I now discovered, were those of a man and woman,standing close together in a little clump of trees. They had been sostill that I had walked almost up to them, and might indeed haveblundered against them but for the voices. As I lay now I could heardistinctly every word they said. The man was speaking.

"My dear, dear little friend," he said, "you know I would do anything inall the world to help you. You're not safe here; I dread that man, andfor your sake I fear him. Why don't you let me take you away from thisdreadful house? You know I would be good to you."

"Yes, I know that, Gregory," replied the girl softly. "But I can't makeup my mind—I can't be sure of myself. I can't be sure even that I loveyou well enough to let you take care of me."

"But you don't love anyone else?" he pleaded. And now, for the firsttime, as he turned his head a little, I saw the man's face. He was quiteyoung, and I noticed that he was tall, and big, and dark, of about thesame style and appearance, and even of the same age, I shouldconjecture, as myself. He was holding the girl's hands and looking downinto her eyes. I could not see her face clearly, but I judged her to besmall, and fair, and slight of figure.

"No, there is no one else I love," she answered him. "Perhaps, some day,Gregory, I may make up my mind—some day, when things get too terribleto be borne any longer here. I'm not afraid; I have a greater couragethan you think. And, after all, the man dare not kill me."

They walked away in the direction of the house, and I lay still amongthe dank grasses, watching them as they went. They disappeared round acorner of it, and still I dared not move.

After quite a long time I thought I heard in the house itself a sharpcry. Perhaps I had been half asleep, lying there with my head on myarms, but the night was very still, and it had seemed to me that I heardthe cry distinctly. At all events it roused me, and startled me to apurpose. I must get into that house, and I must get a change ofclothing. I made straight for it now, and presently found a window at aconvenient height from the ground, and some thick stems of creeper upwhich I could climb to reach it. I stood there on the window-sill for amoment or two, a grey shadow among grey shadows; then I opened thewindow, and, hearing nothing, stepped down into a room.

I found myself in intense darkness. I left the window open so that Imight make good my escape, and I began to fumble about for something bywhich I could get a light. I stumbled against a chair, and stood stillto listen; there seemed to be no sound in the room. And then while Imoved, in the hope to find a fireplace and some matches, I had thatcurious skin-stirring feeling that there was someone or something in theroom with me, silent, and watchful, and waiting. I could almost havesworn that I heard someone breathing, and restraining their breathing atthat.

I failed to find the mantelshelf, but I stumbled presently against atable. I stretched out my hands cautiously about it, leaning wellforward over it as I did so, and my forehead struck against somethingthat moved away and moved back again—something swinging in mid-airabove the table.

I thought it might be a lamp, and I put out my hand to steady it. Butthat which I touched was so surprising and so horrifying that for amoment I held it, and stood there in the darkness fumbling with it, andon the verge of shrieking. For it was a man's boot I held, and there wasa foot inside it. Someone was hanging there above me.

I made straight for the window at once; I felt I was going mad. Needlessto say, I failed to find the window at all, but this time I found themantelshelf. There my hand struck against a match-box, and knocked overa candlestick with a clatter. After two or three tries I got a light,and stooped with the lighted match in my hands and found thecandlestick, and set it upright on the floor. So soon as I had steadiedmy hands to the wick and had got a flame, I looked up at the dreadfulthing above me.

Suspended from a beam that went across the ceiling was a man hanging bythe neck, dead—and the distorted, livid face was the face of the man Ihad seen in the garden but a little time before—the face of the man whohad talked with the girl!

Nor was that all. Seated at the table was another man, with armsstretched straight across it, so that the hands were under the danglingfeet of the other, and with his face sunk on the table between the arms.And this seemed to be an old man with grey hair.

CHAPTER II.

I AM HANGED—AND DONE FOR.

So soon as I could get my eyes away from that thing that swung horriblyabove the table, I forced them to find the window. But even then I couldnot move. It was as though my limbs were frozen with the sheer horror ofthis business into which I had blundered. You will own that I had hadenough of sensations for that day; I wonder now that I was able to getback to sane thoughts at all. I stood there, with my teeth chattering,and my hands clutching at the grey coat I wore, striving to pull myselftogether, and to decide what was best to be done. To add to the horrorof the thing, the man who lay half across the table began to stir, andpresently sat up slowly, like one waking from a long and heavy sleep. Hesat for some moments, staring in front of him, with his hands spread outpalms downwards on the table. He did not seem to see me at all. Iwatched him, wondering what he would do when presently he should lookround and catch sight of me; wondering, for my part, whether, if hecried out with the shock of seeing me, I should grapple with him, ormake for the window and dash out into the darkness.

He did a surprising thing at last. He raised his eyes slowly, until theyrested upon what gyrated and swung above him, and then, as his eyestravelled upwards to the face, he smiled very slowly and very gently;and almost on the instant turned his head, perhaps at some noise I made,and looked squarely at me.

Think of it! To be calmly greeted in that fashion, in a room into whichI had blundered, clad grotesquely as I was, and with that dead thinghanging above us! Idiotically enough I tried to get out an answer to theman, but I found my tongue staggering about among my teeth and doingnothing in the way of shaping words. So I stared at him with, I suppose,a very white face, and pointed to that which hung above us.

"He's very quiet, sir," said the old man, getting to his feet slowly. "Iwas afraid at first—I didn't understand. I was afraid of him. Think ofthat!" He laughed again with a laughter that was ghastly.

"Cut—cut him down!" I stammered in a whisper, holding on to the edge ofthe mantelshelf and beginning to feel a horrible nausea stealing overme.

He shook his head. "I can't touch him—I'm afraid again," said the oldman, and backed away into a corner.

What I should have done within a minute or two I do not really know, ifby chance I could have kept my reason at all, but I heard someone movingin the house, and coming towards the room in which I stood. I did notthink of my danger; everything was so far removed from the ordinary thatit was as though I moved and walked in some dream, from which presently,with a shudder and a sigh of relief, I should awake. Therefore, evenwhen I heard footsteps coming towards the room I did not move, nor didit seem strange that whoever came seemed to step with something of ajaunty air, singing loudly as he moved, with a rather fine baritonevoice. In just such a fashion a man flung open the door and marchedstraight into the room, and stopped there, surveying the picture wemade, the three of us—one dead and two alive—with a pair of verybright, keen eyes.

He was a tall, thin man, with sleek black hair gone grey at the temples.He had a cleanly-shaven face, much lined and wrinkled at the corners ofthe eyes and of the mouth; and when he presently spoke I discovered thathis lips parted quickly, showing the line of his white teeth, and yetwith nothing of a smile. It was as though the lips moved mechanically insome still strong mask; only the eyes were very much alive. And afterhis first glance round the room I saw that his eyes rested only on me.

I did not answer his question; I pointed weakly to the hanging man."Aren't you going—going to do anything with him?" I blurted out.

He shrugged his shoulders. "He's dead; and the other one,"—he let hiseyes rest for a moment on the old man—"the other one is as good as deadfor anything he understands. The matter is between us, and perhaps I'dbetter hear you first."

He shrugged his shoulders again, and drew from his pocket a knife.Keeping his eyes fixed on the swaying figure above him, he mounted to achair, and so to the table, deftly and strongly lifted the dead man uponone shoulder while he severed the rope above his head. Then he steppeddown, first to the chair and then to the floor, and laid the thing, notungently, on a couch in the corner. I was able now to avert my eyes fromit.

"Does that please you?" he asked, with something of a sneer. "Getforward into the light a little; I want to see you."

I stepped forward, and he looked me up and down; then he nodded slowly,and showed that white gleam of his teeth. "I see—a convict," he said."From what prison?"

"Many miles from here," I answered him. "I escaped early this morning;someone brought me as far as this on a motor-car. I broke in—because Iwanted food and a change of clothing. I was desperate."

"I see—I see," he said, in his smooth voice. "A change of clothing, andfood. Perhaps we may be able to provide you with both."

"You mean you'll promise to do so, while you communicate with thepolice, I suppose?" I answered sullenly.

He smiled, and shook his head. "That is not my way of doing things atall," he said. "You are desperate, you tell me, and I have no particularinterest in your recapture. If it comes to that, I have trouble enoughof my own." He glanced for a moment at the body behind him. "I shouldlike to know how it comes about that you are a convict—for whatparticular crime, I mean?"

I told him, as briefly as I could, the whole story, not painting myselftoo black, you may be sure. He listened with deep attention until I hadfinished, and then for a minute or two he stood still, with his armsfolded, evidently considering some point deeply. I waited, forgetful ofall else but the man before me, for he seemed to hold my fate in hishands. All this time the old man I had found in the room stood in acorner, smiling foolishly, and nibbing his hands one over the other. Theother man who dominated the situation took not the faintest notice ofhim.

"How long have you been hanging about this place, waiting to break in?"demanded the man who had come into the room last. "Speak the truth."

"I don't exactly know," I answered. "I fell asleep while I lay in thegrounds, and lost count of time. But I saw him,"—I nodded my headtowards that prone figure on the couch—"I saw him in the grounds."

"Since you know that, you may as well know the rest," he replied. "Thisyoung man has had a most unhappy attachment for a young lady in thishouse, who is my ward. He has persecuted her with his attentions; he hascome here under cover of the darkness, over and over again, against mywishes. She liked him——"

"Then you only confirm my words," he said, after a sharp glance at me."Perhaps you may imagine my feelings when to-night I discovered that theunhappy boy had absolutely taken his revenge upon me, and upon her, byhanging himself in this very room. So far I have been able to keep theknowledge from my ward,—I think there's a possibility that I may beable to keep it from her altogether."

I did not understand the drift of his thought then, nor did I see inwhat way I was to be concerned in the matter. He came a little nearer tome, and seated himself on the table, and bent his keen glance on mebefore going on again. I think I muttered something, for my own part,about being sorry, but it was a feeble mutter at the best.

"Perhaps you may wonder why I have not sent at once, in the ordinarycourse, for a doctor," he went on. "That is quite easily explained whenI tell you that I am a doctor myself. The situation is absurd, ofcourse. Perhaps I had better introduce myself. I am Dr. Bardolph Just."He paused, as though expecting that I should supply information on myside.

"And you speak like a gentleman, which is a passport at once to myfavour," he assured me, with a bow. "Now, let us get to business. Ayoung man comes here to-night and hangs himself in my house. I have adeep respect and liking for that young man, although I am opposed to theidea of his aspiring to the hand of my ward. He hangs himself, and atonce scandal springs up, bell-mouthed, to shout the thing to the world.The name of an innocent girl is dragged in; my name is dragged in;innocent people suffer for the foolish act of a thoughtless boy. Thequestion in my mind at once is: Can the penalty be averted from us?"

I must own the man fascinated me. I began to feel that I would do muchto help him, and to help the girl I had seen that night in the groundsof the house. Fool that I was then, I did not understand and did notknow what deep game he was playing; indeed, had I known, how could Ihave stood against him?

"I am, I trust, always a friend to the friendless and the helpless," hewent on. "You are friendless, I take it, and very helpless, and althoughI am no opponent of the law, I have yet the instinct which tells me thatI should help a fugitive. Now let us understand one another."

At this point we were interrupted, horribly enough, by a cry from theold man in the corner—a cry like nothing earthly. He advanced a fewsteps towards where we stood, and looked from one to the other of us,with his hands plucking nervously at his lips.

"I don't understand, gentlemen—I don't understand," he said, in afeeble voice. "He was alive and well and strong this morning; he clappedme on the shoulder, and said—what was it that he said?" The man putone hand to his head and looked at me in a lost fashion. "I forget whatit was; something seems to have gone here!" He struck his foreheadsharply with his knuckles, and again looked at us with that feeblesmile.

"Get out of the way!" said Dr. Just fiercely. "Take no notice of him,"he added to me. "He babbles about things he doesn't understand."

The old man slunk away, and sat down on a chair in the corner anddropped his forehead in his hands. And from that time he did not moveuntil my strange interview with Dr. Just was over.

"Now, what I suggest is this," the doctor said, leaning towards me andimpressing his points upon me by stabbing one white forefinger into thepalm of his other hand. "We will say that you have suffered for a crimewhich was not morally a crime at all. We will put it that you, by allthe laws of humanity, had a right to escape from the hideous doom towhich you had been consigned. You have escaped, and by the strangestchance you have found a friend at the very outset."

He smiled at me, if that quick baring of his teeth could be called asmile, and I tried to thank him with broken words. Then he went onagain—

"Before you can enter the world again it is necessary that you shouldhave clothing which does not brand you as that dress does," he said."Therefore I want for a moment to put a case clearly to you—to let yousee what is in my mind. Suppose that this convict, fleeing from pursuit,haunted by the thought that he may be recaptured, and may have to servea yet longer period for his escapade—starving, and fainting, andhopeless; suppose this convict enters a house, and, finding the meansready to his hand, puts an end to the business once for all, and throwsup the sponge. In other words, suppose that convict hangs himself, andso gets the laugh of those who are hunting him down. Do you follow me?"

I was so far from following him that I shook my head feebly, and glancedfirst at my own clothes and then at the man who had hanged himself, andwho now lay on the couch. Then I shook my head again.

The doctor seemed to lose patience. "I'm afraid you haven't a very quickbrain," he exclaimed testily. "Let me make myself more clear. A youngman of good family and good standing in the world, comes in hereto-night and commits suicide; soon after an outcast, flying fromjustice, follows him, and breaks in also. In appearance the two aresomething alike; both are tall, and strong, and dark; each man—the onefrom compulsion—has closely cropped dark hair. Suppose I suggest that,to avoid a scandal, it is the convict who has hanged himself, and thatthe other man has not been here at all. In other words, as you need achange of clothing, I propose you change with that!"

I gasped at the mere horror of the idea; I shuddered as I looked at thedead man. "I couldn't—I couldn't!" I whispered. "Besides, what wouldbecome of me?"

"I don't ask you to take the place of the other man; that would be toorisky, and would, in fact, be impossible," he said quietly. "I am merelyasking you to assist me to cover up this unfortunate business and at thesame time to save yourself."

There was no time for me to think; I was like a rat in a trap.Nevertheless, on an impulse, I refused to have anything to do with somad a notion. "I won't do it; it's impossible!" I said.

"Very good, my friend!" He shrugged his shoulders and moved quietlyacross the room towards the bell. "Then my duty is clear—I give you upto those who must be anxious concerning your safety. I've given you yourchance, and you refuse to take it."

He shook his head. "No other way at all," he replied. "Come, bereasonable; I'm not going to land you into a trap. Put the matterclearly to yourself. You are a pariah, outside the pale of civilisedthings; I offer you a fresh start. Mr. Norton Hyde, the convict, commitssuicide—I pledge my word to you that the fraud shall not be discovered.A certain young girl is saved from much trouble, and sorrow, andanxiety; I also am saved from the consequences of a very rash act,committed by our dead friend here. So far as you are concerned, you canstart afresh, with your record wiped out. Come—yes or no?

"I don't trust you," I said. "What do you want to do with me? whatpurpose have you in this, apart from the hushing up of a scandal?"

He became thoughtful at that; presently, looking up, he answered me withwhat seemed to be a charming frankness, "You have the right to ask, andalthough I might refuse to reply, I want to treat you fairly," he said."In a certain business in which I am interested—a certain scheme I haveon hand—I want help. You will be a man who has thrown everything, as itwere, into the melting-pot of life: you will have everything to win, andnothing to lose. In other words, you are just the creature I want—theman ready to my hand, to do anything I may suggest. You haven't answeredme yet; is it to be yes or no?"

I said, "No!" quickly, and he moved towards the bell with an impatientfrown. He had only three steps to take, but in that brief moment I had avision of myself handcuffed and going back to my prison; I could notbear it. He was within an inch of the bell, when I cried out the wordthat was to change all my life, and was to set me upon the mostdesperate venture I had yet had anything to do with. I cried out, "Yes."

He smiled, and came back to me. "You should learn to make up your mindmore quickly," he said. "Now, let us see what we have to do. You'venothing to be afraid of, and you need take no notice of that creature inthe corner there; he knows nothing, and will remember nothing. Stripyourself to the skin."

As I began to undress, I glanced at the old man in the corner; he sat inthe same attitude, with his head sunk in his hands. "What is wrong withhim?" I asked.

Dr. Bardolph Just was bending over the body of the man on the couch; hedid not look round. "Something snapped in his brain a little time ago,"he answered me. "It is as though you had snapped the mainspring of awatch; the brain in him died at that moment."

He tossed certain garments to me one by one, and I flung him my own inreturn. So the change was made, and I presently stood up and looked downat myself, and saw myself as that young man who had stood in the gardenand had talked to the girl. For, indeed, I was something like him infigure, and height, and appearance. When the doctor moved away from thecouch I gasped, for there I lay, in the dress I had worn for a year,branded and numbered—and dead. It was not a pretty sight; I turned awayfrom it, shuddering.

But the doctor laughed softly. "It is not given to every man to seehimself as he will one day be," he said.

"Gregory Pennington," he answered, looking at the body. "So you see atone stroke we get rid of Gregory Pennington, and of a certainunfortunate convict, named Norton Hyde. So far as your furtherchristening is concerned, we must arrange that later, for this mattermust be taken with a certain boldness, or weak spots may be discoveredin it. I think you said you were hungry, and I daresay you've had enoughof this room for the present."

"Then come along, and let us see if we can find something to put bettercourage into you," he said. And gratefully enough I followed him fromthe room in that new disguise.

The house was a very large one. We traversed a number of corridorsbefore coming to a room which seemed to be half-study and half-surgery.I should not have known as to the latter half of it, but for the factthat the doctor, who did not seem to care to summon any servants theremay have been, left me there while he went in search of food. I peepedbehind a screen at one end of the room, and saw an array of bottles, andtest tubes in stands, and other paraphernalia. At the further end of theroom were great book cases reaching to the ceiling, and a big desk witha reading-lamp upon it. But even here, though the furniture washandsome, the room had a neglected appearance, as, indeed, I afterwardsfound every room in that house had.

Bardolph Just came back in a little while, carrying food and a decanter.After he had set the food out on a table, and I had fallen to with arelish, he laughed softly, and said that, after all, he had forgottento bring me a glass. He declared, however, that that was a matter soonremedied, and he went behind the screen, and came out with a tallmeasuring-glass in his hand. It seemed an uncanny thing to drink wineout of; but I had no choice.

He presently pulled open a drawer in the desk, and took out a cigar, andlighted it; as I had finished my meal, he tossed one to me, and Igratefully began to smoke. The man was evidently still turning over somematter in his mind, for he said nothing while he sat twisting the cigarround between his lips and looking at me. His back was turned towardsthe door of the room, and presently in that house of horror I saw thedoor begin slowly to open.

I suppose I ought to have cried out, but once again I was fascinated bywhat might happen at any moment, and perhaps in sheer wonder as to whatwas coming in. It was nothing worse, as it turned out, than the little,old grey-haired man I had seen in the further room, and who hadevidently followed us. He crept in now, step by step, with that curioussmile upon his face, and when he was fairly in the room closed thedoor—I noticed that it closed with a sharp little click, as though ithad a spring lock.

Dr. Bardolph Just did a curious thing. As the lock clicked he suddenlysat rigid, gripping the arms of his chair, and staring at me as thoughfrom my face he would learn what was behind him. Seeing, I suppose,nothing in my expression to guide him, he suddenly swung sharply roundand faced the little old man; and I thought at that moment that a quicksigh broke from him, as of relief. I wondered what he had expected tosee.

"What the devil do you want?" he demanded, in a voice raised but littleabove a whisper. "Why do you follow me about?"

The old man spread out his hands in a deprecating fashion, and shook hishead. "Nothing, sir," he said, "nothing at all. But he won't speak tome—and he has never been like that before. I don't understand it. Iknelt beside him just now, and his dress was different—and—and—" Isaw his hands go up to his lips, and pluck at them in that strangefashion—"and he won't speak to me."

The doctor turned from him to me, and shrugged his shoulders. "This is anice apparition to be following a man about," he said petulantly. "Ican't make him out at all."

"The servant of the dead man—one of those faithful old fools thatattach themselves to you, and won't be shaken off, I suppose. He camehere to-night, following his unfortunate master. What the deuce am I todo with him?"

"He seems harmless enough," I whispered. "But isn't it rather dangerousto have him about here, after the fraud that has been committed. Won'the speak? Won't he say that this dead man is not the escaped convict,but his master?"

"There's no fear of that," replied the other. "I tell you something hassnapped in his brain; he doesn't understand. If I turned him out intothe world now, he would remember nothing, and would have no story totell, even if he were questioned. But I don't want to turn him out—andyet he haunts me."

Dr. Just nodded. "When he saw his master dead, he simply cried out, andafterwards remained as you see him now. I must dispose of him for thenight, at least," he said, getting to his feet, and approaching the oldman. "Come, Capper, I want you."

The little old man looked round at him as he said that name, and I saw afaint fear come into his eyes. He shrank away a little, but the doctorgrasped his arm quickly, and drew him towards the door. He went out inthat grasp passively enough, and I was left alone again.

I had almost fallen asleep, worn out with the excitements of the day,when the doctor came back again. I started to my feet drowsily, andfaced him.

"Good-night!" he said, and held out his hand to me—a cold hand, butfirm and strong in its touch. "You may see and hear strange things inthis house," he added, "but it is not your business to take any noticeof them. You will be, I hope, properly grateful to me—the man who hassaved you, and given you a new lease of life."

He conducted me to a room in what seemed to be an outlying wing of thehouse, and left me to my own reflections. In truth, I was too tired togive much time to thought. I slipped off my clothes and got into bed,and was asleep in five minutes.

But I was not destined to sleep well, after all. In the first place, Iwas troubled most unaccountably by dreams, in which I saw myself goingthrough the most extraordinary adventures, and finally hanging to whatseemed to be the roof of Penthouse Prison, with the little old man ofthe grey hair grinning up at me from the ground below. And through mydreams there appeared always to go the light, quick figure of that girlI had seen in the grounds of the house; and always she went searchingfor someone. I dreamed at last that she came straight to me, and took meby the arms, and stared at me, and cried out that she had found the manshe wanted. And so I sat up in bed in the darkness, struggling withsomeone very real, who was gripping me.

I almost shrieked, as I rolled out of bed, and tried to disengage myselffrom the arms of a man who was clinging to me. I contrived to drag himtowards the window, where, by the faint light of the stars outside, Isaw that it was the man Capper—that seemingly half-witted creature whohad been the servant of the dead man.

"Yes, but not dreams like mine," whispered the old man, lookingfearfully over his shoulder. "Tell me, do you think they'll come true?"

He clutched me by the arm, and stared up in my face. There seemed almosta light of madness in his eyes. "I dreamed that it happened a long timeago—before my head went wrong. I dreamed of a blow struck in the dark;I thought someone (it might have been myself, but I'm not sure even ofthat)—I dreamed that someone screamed, 'Murder!'"

In a growing excitement he had raised his voice almost to a scream; Iclapped my hand over his lips as he got out the dreadful word. I felt myhair stirring on my scalp. I wondered if by chance something dreadfulhad happened in that house, of which this old man knew, and the memoryof which was locked away in that closed brain of his.

"Let me stay here to-night," he pleaded, clinging to me. "I'll be stillas a mouse; I'll lie in this corner on the floor."

So I let him lie there, and I went back to my bed. For a long time Ilay awake, watching him and thinking about him; but gradually towardsthe morning I fell asleep, and slept heavily. When I awoke at last, withthe sun shining in at my window, the man was gone, and my door stoodopen.

That was to be a day of happenings. Even now my mind holds but aconfused memory of them, in which I seem to be now myself, and now someother man; now living on hope, and now sunk into the depths of fear anddespair. For what I have to tell seems so incredible, that only by someknowledge of the man who carried the plot boldly through can any idea ofhow the business was arranged be arrived at.

Dr. Bardolph Just acted with promptness and decision that day. Amessenger flew down towards London to summon the police; and a telegramsped over the wires back to Penthouse Prison. The missing convict hadbeen found; all the world might come to the house of Dr. Bardolph Just,and see this thing for themselves. At the last, when we actuallyexpected the enemy to arrive at our gates, as it were, I nervouslyplucked the doctor's sleeve, and whispered a question.

He smiled a little pityingly, I thought; but then, to the very end theman retained some contempt for me. "Come and see for yourself," he said.

So I went back with him into that room where we had left the dead man,and there I saw a miracle. For while I slept the doctor had been atwork, and the head of poor Gregory Pennington was cropped as closely asmy own. I shuddered and turned away.

"How you ever contrived to escape puzzles me," said Bardolph Just. "Youhaven't half my courage."

The man was certainly amazing. He met everything blandly; he was firm,and quiet, and dignified with this official and with that. He told meafterwards all that he did, and I had no reason to disbelieve him. Formy own part, of course, I had to keep out of the way, and I spent mostof my time in the spacious grounds surrounding the house. There was anold ruined summer-house at one corner, under a high wall; and there,fortified with a few of the doctor's cigars, I awaited quietly the turnof events. According to the doctor's description to me afterwards, whathappened was this:

In the first place, the puzzle fitted so neatly together that there wasno feeling of suspicion. A tall, well-built, dark-haired man, in theclothes of a convict, was roaming over the country; by a miracle a mananswering that description, and dressed in those clothes, and having thenecessary number upon him, had got to this house on the northern heightsabove London, and there, in despair of escaping further, had hangedhimself. Dr. Bardolph Just was a man of standing in the scientificworld—a man who had made discoveries; there was no thought of callinghis word in question. This dead man was undoubtedly the escapedconvict—Norton Hyde.

A very necessary inquest was held, and twelve good men and true settledthat matter once and for all. There had been one curious point in theevidence, but even that was a point that had been miraculouslyexplained. The doctor spoke of it airily, and I wondered a little why hedid not explain the matter with more exactitude.

"It seems," he said, "that they discovered on the head of theunfortunate man the mark of a blow—a blow which had undoubtedly stunnedhim—or so, at least, they thought. It's impossible for me to say howthe unfortunate Gregory Pennington came by such an injury, but at allevents even that was accounted for in the case of Norton Hyde."

Dr. Just laughed. "A certain motorist put in an appearance, and franklyexplained that he had picked you up on the roadside near PenthousePrison, and had given you a lift as far as this very house. Then therewas an accident, and he and his passenger were both pitched out; he wasconvinced that in that way you got your injury. The thing was as simpleas possible—you had recovered consciousness before he did, and hadscrambled over the fence here."

"But did they swallow the story of my being in the house—of my breakingin?" I asked.

"I had thought of that," said the doctor. "So my tale was that you hadhanged yourself from a beam in an outhouse—probably because you failedin your purpose of breaking into my dwelling. As a doctor, the moment Idiscovered you I cut you down, and carried you in, and did my best torestore animation, but in vain. You will like to know, Mr. Norton Hyde,that my humanity was warmly commended by the jury and coroner."

I laughed in a sickly fashion. "But I am not Norton Hyde any longer," Ireminded him.

"True—and I have thought of a name for you that shall, in a fashion,mark your entry into another phase of existence. A nice name, and ashort one. What do you say to the title of John New, a personal friendof my own?"

I told him that any name would suit me that was not the old one, and sothat matter was settled.

He displayed so great an anxiety to see the matter ended, and wasaltogether so sympathetic with that poor convict who in his despair hadhanged himself, that he even attended the funeral. Which is to say,that he carried the fraud so far as to go to Penthouse Prison, what timethat disguised body of Godfrey Pennington was carried there, and to seeit interred with all due solemnity within the prison precincts; Ibelieve he lunched with the governor of the prison on that occasion,and, altogether, played his part very well.

It is left to me to record here one other happening of that time, andone which made a deep impression upon me. On the night of that strangefinishing of the fraud, when Dr. Bardolph Just returned, I was sittingsmoking in the summer-house, and enjoying the evening air, when I heardwhat seemed to be the quick, half-strangled cry of a woman. I tossedaside my cigar and started to my feet and came out of the summer-house.It was very dark in that corner of the grounds, and the summer-house inparticular had great deep shadows inside it.

There came towards me, flying among the trees, and looking back in ascared fashion over her shoulder, the girl I had seen with GregoryPennington—the girl he had called Debora. She came straight at me, notseeing me; and in the distance I saw Bardolph Just running, and heardhim calling to her. On an instinct I caught at her, and laid a finger onmy lips, and thrust her into the summer-house. Bardolph Just camerunning up a moment later, and stopped a little foolishly on seeing me.And by that time I was stretching my arms and yawning.

He made some casual remark, and turned back towards the house. When hehad gone I called to the girl, and she came out; she was white-faced andtrembling, and there were tears in her eyes. I felt that I hatedBardolph Just, with a hatred that was altogether unreasonable.

"I saw you here yesterday," she said, looking at me earnestly. "I needfriends badly—and you have a good, kind face. Will you be my friend?"

I do not know what words I said; I only know that there, in the darkgarden, as I bent over her little hands and put them to my lips, I vowedmyself in my heart to her service.

CHAPTER III.

THE MISSING MAN.

I find it difficult to write, in my halting fashion, of what mysensations were at that time. God knows what good was in me, and onlyGod and time could bring that good out of me; for I had had nochildhood, and my manhood had been a thing thwarted and blighted.

You have to understand that in a matter of a few days I had lived yearsof an ordinary life; had been in prison, and had escaped; had come nearto death; had found myself buried and done with, and yet enlisted onlife under a new name; and, to crown it all, now come face to face withsomeone who believed in me and trusted me—broken reed though I was tolean upon.

I stood in the dark grounds, holding the girl's hands and looking intoher eyes: and that was a new experience for me. I remembered how someoneelse—dead, and shamefully buried in the precincts of a prison—had heldher hands but a little time before, and had begged that he might helpher. Well, he was past all that now; and I, with my poor record behindme, stood, miraculously enough, in his place. Yet there were things Imust understand, if I would help her at all: I wanted to know why shehad fled from her guardian, and why, in his turn, he had chased herthrough the grounds.

"What were you afraid of?" I asked her gently; and it was pleasant to methat she should forget to take her hands out of mine.

"Of him," she said, with a glance towards the house; and I thought sheshivered. "I wonder if you can understand what I feel, and of what I amafraid?" she went on, looking at me curiously. "I do not even know yourname."

I laughed a little bitterly. "You must indeed be in need of friends ifyou come to me," I answered.

"I am a friend of Dr. Just," I repeated, "because it happens that I amvery much in his power, and I must be his friend if I would live at all.If that is your case, too, surely we might form some small conspiracytogether against him. You're not fond of the man?" I hazarded.

She shook her head. "I hate him—and I'm afraid of him," she saidvehemently. "And yet I have to look to him for everything in the world."

"Sit down, and tell me about it," I said; and I drew her into thesummer-house, and sat by her side while she talked to me. She was like achild in the ease with which she gave me her confidence; and as Ilistened to her, years seemed to separate me from my prison and from thelife I had led. For this was the first gentle soul with whom I had yetcome in contact.

"You must first tell me," she urged, "why you are in the doctor's power.Who are you? and what have you done, that he should be able to hold youin his hands? You are a man; you're not a weak girl."

It was difficult to answer her. "Well," I began, after a pause, "I didsomething, a long time ago, of which the doctor knows; and he holds thatknowledge over me. That's all I can tell you."

She looked straight into my eyes, and I found, to my relief, that I wasable to look at her with some frankness in return. "I don't believe itwas anything very wrong," she said at last.

"Thank you," I answered, and I prayed that she might never know what mysin had been.

"You see," she went on confidentially, while the shadows grew about us;"I am really all alone in the world, except for Dr. Just, who is myguardian. He was made my guardian by my poor, dear father, who died sometwo years ago; my father believed in the doctor very much. They hadwritten a scientific treatise together—because the doctor is veryclever, and father quite looked up to him. So when he died he leftdirections that I was to be taken care of by the doctor. That was twoyears ago, and I have lived in this house ever since, with one shortinterval."

"We went down to a country house belonging to the doctor—a place inEssex, called Green Barn. It's a gloomy old house—worse than this one;the doctor goes there to shoot."

"But you haven't told me yet why you were running away from him," Ireminded her.

She bent her head, so that I could not see her face. "Lately," she saidin a low voice, "his manner to me has changed. At first he was courteousand kind—he treated me as though I had been his daughter. But now it'sall different; he looks at me in a fashion I understand—and yet don'tunderstand. To-day he tried to put his arm round me, and to kiss me;then when I ran away he ran after me."

I felt that I hated the doctor very cordially; I had an insane desire tobe present if by any chance he should repeat his conduct. I felt mymuscles stiffen as I looked at the girl; in my thoughts I was like someknight of old, ready to do doughty deeds for this fair, pretty girl, whowas so ready to confide in me. I forgot all about who I was, or what hadhappened to me; I had only strangely come out into the world again—intoa world of love.

But the fact that it was a world of love reminded me that I had had arival—another man who had held her hands and looked into her eyes, andpleaded that he might help her. I could not, of course, ask about him,because I held the key to his fate, and that fate intimately concernedmy own safety; but I was consumed with curiosity, nevertheless.Strangely enough, she voiced my thoughts by beginning to speak of him.

"There is something else that troubles me," she said earnestly. "I haveone friend—a dear, good, loyal fellow; but he has unaccountably goneaway, and I can hear nothing of him."

I felt myself turning hot and cold; I blessed the darkness of thesummer-house. "What was his name?" I asked.

"He was my friend before my father died; he followed me here when thedoctor took charge of me. He was afraid of the doctor—not for himself,but on my account; he had a strange idea, and one that I have tried tolaugh at, that the doctor wanted to kill me."

She looked at me with smiling eyes, laughing at such a suggestion; butI, remembering the earnestness of Gregory Pennington's words to the girlon that first occasion of my coming to the house, seemed now to hearthat warning as though it came indeed from the dead. And I could notanswer her.

"That was foolish, wasn't it?" she said, with a little laugh. "But then,I think poor Gregory loves me, and that made him afraid for me. You havebeen in the house here for some days; have you seen nothing of him?"

I was obliged to lie; there was nothing else for it. I shook my head,and lied stoutly. "No," I replied, "I have never seen him."

"It's all so strange," she said, as she got to her feet. "The doctor didnot like him, and had forbidden him the house, in spite of myremonstrances. As he was my friend, Gregory and I used to meet secretlyin these grounds in the evening."

I remembered how I had seen them together; I remembered, with a shudder,all that had happened afterwards. But still I said nothing; for whatcould I say?

"It was all so strange," she went on; and her voice sounded ghostly inthe darkness. I had risen, and was standing opposite to her; I seemed tofeel that the air had grown suddenly very chill. "The last time I sawhim he told me that he would go to the house, and would see my guardian.I did all I could," she proceeded helplessly, "to dissuade him, but hewould not listen. He said he must have an understanding with Dr. Just,and must take me away; although I think I should never have consented tothat, in any case—because, you see, I did not really love him. He hadalways been like a good, kind brother to me, but nothing more."

She nodded. "I would not go in with him," she replied, "but I saw him gotowards the doctor's study. I went off to my own room."

"Nothing at all," she whispered. "Early the next morning the doctorsent me off to Green Barn, with a woman who is his housekeeper; I onlycame back to-day. I expected a letter from Gregory—even expected to seehim. It's all so funny; it is just as though he had walked into thatstudy—and had disappeared from that time."

"You mustn't think such things as that," I exclaimed hurriedly. "A dozenthings may have happened; he may have been repulsed by the doctor, andso have decided to go away. If he knew you did not love him, he wouldfeel pretty hopeless about the matter."

"That is possible, perhaps," she said. Then, suddenly, she held out herhand to me. "I have one friend at least," she said, "and his name is Mr.John New. It's a curious name, and I shan't forget it. You tell me thatyou are in trouble, too: so that is a bond between us. Good-night!"

I watched her as she flitted away through the garden. Even in my reliefat the thought that she did not love Gregory Pennington, there was thedismal feeling that some day she must learn the truth—the ghastlythought that I stood there, actually in the clothes of the dead man. Thewhole business was a nightmare from beginning to end, in which alone shestood out as something bright, and fair, and unsullied.

We were a curious household. There were one or two rather scared-lookingservants, presided over by a woman to whom the doctor referred always as"Leach"; in fact, he called her by that name when speaking to her. Asshe was destined to play rather an important part in that strangebusiness upon which we were all entering, she deserves a word or two ofdescription.

She must have been about forty years of age, and had once been, andstill was, in a way, astonishingly handsome. She was tall and very dark;she had hair of that blue-black quality that is so rarely seen. Hereyes were as brilliant as those of Dr. Bardolph Just himself, save thatthere was in hers a curious slumbrous quality, quite unlike the sparklein the man's. I may best describe her by saying that she suggested to methat in the very soul of her was something lurking and waiting forexpression—some smouldering fire that a touch or a word might startinto flame.

So far as I could gather, Dr. Just was exceedingly contemptible of her,and treated her with a sort of bitter playfulness. He seemed to take adelight in making her perform the most menial offices; and to me it wasrather pitiful to see the eagerness with which she anticipated his everywish or command. I did not know at that time what bond there was betweenthem; only, whenever I think of them in this later time one scene alwaysrises before my memory.

It was on a morning soon after I had arrived at the house, and thedoctor was in a ferocious mood. Everything had gone wrong, and I hadseen the woman Leach, who ordinarily waited behind his chair, and byquick signs directed the servants what to do, cower under the lash ofhis words more than once. It happened to be at the breakfast table, andI was seated at one end, facing the doctor. It was the morning afterthat memorable night when I had talked with the girl Debora in thegrounds; and now she sat on my right hand, at one side of the table,between the doctor and myself.

Absurd as the suggestion is, it almost seemed to me that the doctor wasstriking a balance between the two women for the mortification of themboth. He pressed dishes upon the girl, with suave compliments at onemoment, and in the next turned to Leach behind him with what was almosta coarse threat.

"Why the devil don't you wait on your young mistress?" he snapped. "Whatdo you think I keep you here for? What do I pay you for?"

He turned to the table again, and, looking down the length of it, I sawthe woman swiftly clench and unclench her hands behind him, as thoughshe would have struck him. And if ever I saw murder in a face I saw itthen; yet she looked not at the doctor, but at the bowed head of thegirl beside me.

"Come—move—stir yourself!" cried the man, bringing down his fist witha bang on the table beside him. "Don't wait for the servants to carrythings; carry them yourself. Take this dish to your mistress—MissDebora Matchwick."

It was the first time I had heard the girl's name in full; but I tookbut little notice of it then, so interested was I in watching the littlescene that was going forward. While the doctor sat looking at the girl,I saw the woman behind him draw herself up, and I saw her nostrilsdilate; then she seemed to swoop to the table, and to catch up the dishhe had indicated. She moved round slowly to where the girl sat, andpurposely handed the dish from the wrong side. And down came BardolphJust's fist again on the table.

"The other side, you jade!" he roared; and with a glance at him shemoved round, and presented it to the girl in the proper fashion. And theface that bent above the fair hair of the girl was the face of adevil—of a soul in torment.

"Come, my dear child, we shall have you pining away to a shadow if youdon't eat," broke in the doctor, with a mocking smile. "Is it possiblethat you are fretting over something—hungering for someone? We musthave a private talk about this after breakfast; you must confide yourtroubles to me. And may I ask," he went on, with bitter politeness, ashe turned to the other woman, "may I ask why you are standing in thatabsurd attitude, when your mistress tells you she wants nothing?"

The woman Leach turned away abruptly, and set down the dish. Debora hadrisen from the table, as if to make her escape, and the other woman,after a quick glance at her, was preparing to go from the room also. Buther humiliation was not yet completed; the doctor called her back.

"Wait, Leach," he said, and she stopped on the instant. "You are in atempestuous humour this morning, and that sort of humour must bequelled. Ring the bell."

She gave a quick, nervous glance at him, and then walked across the roomand rang the bell. She waited, with her eyes cast on the ground, until aservant came in, carrying in his hand a pair of shoes. The doctor turnedround in his chair, and the man carrying the shoes dropped on one knee,as if to put them on. But Bardolph Just waved him aside.

"You needn't trouble; get up," he said; and the man rose from his knees,looking a little bewildered. "Leach, come here!"

The woman stood still for a moment, and then walked slowly across thefloor, till she stood in front of him. He pointed to the shoes at hisfeet, and smiled; and I, who had risen in my place, stood helplessly,waiting to see what would happen.

It took her quite a long time to get to her knees, but she did it atlast, and began to put on the shoes. All this time the man-servant stoodgaping, not knowing whether to go or stay. Debora, too, had paused atthe door, in amazement at the scene. And in that oppressive silence thewoman Leach fastened the shoes with fingers that seemed clumsy enoughfor that work. Nor were the doctor's words likely to mend her confusion.

"You're precious slow, I must say! What's the matter with you? are yougetting past your work? You know what happens to people who are nolonger fit to work, don't you? We have to cast them out into the street,to make a living as best they can—or to die. There—that'll do; you'vebeen long enough to fasten a dozen pairs of shoes."

I think he struck her with his foot as she was rising from her knees,but of that I cannot be sure. I know that she turned away abruptly, butnot before I had had time to see that those great eyes of hers wereblinded with tears. Yet her gait, as she went from the room, was asstately as ever.

But perhaps the strangest being in that strange house at that time wasWilliam Capper. He wandered like a lost spirit, and one never knew quitewhere he would appear. Knowing what I did as to what had become of thedead man, this man who looked for him and waited for him was as a ghostthat would not be laid. More than that, he was a ghost who mightsuddenly spring into live flesh and blood, and tell what he knew.

The doctor seemed as disconcerted by his presence as I was, and yet hemade no effort to get rid of the man. Capper wandered about the houseand about the grounds just as he pleased, while those peering eyes ofhis seemed always to be searching for his master. But it happened that,as Debora had been sent away on the very morning following the death ofpoor Gregory Pennington, and had only returned now, she had not yet comein contact with the man Capper. I found myself wondering what wouldhappen when she did.

She was destined to meet him under curious circumstances. On thatmorning which had seen the degradation of the woman Leach before usall, Dr. Bardolph Just called me into that room that was half study andhalf surgery, and told me quite abruptly that he wanted me to go downinto London for him. I suppose my startled face told its own tale, forhe laughed a little contemptuously.

"Do you imagine anyone will be seeking you, or even expecting to findyou above ground?" he asked. "Can't you get into your mind the idea thatNorton Hyde is dead and buried in his own prison, and that anotherman—John New—has come alive in his place? People only look for whatthey expect to find, my dear John New; you are as safe as though by amiracle you had changed your features. I merely want you to go down intoHolborn, to inquire about a certain scientific book which was promisedto be sent to me and has not arrived. If it has not already been sent,you can bring it back with you."

He gave me the address, and money wherewith to travel; and I felt myheart sink at the prospect of going down, in this bare-faced fashion,into the great world. In my heart of hearts I determined that I wouldnot go; the book might arrive in my absence, and the doctor might forgetthat he had sent me at all. So I made a feint of going, but in realitydid not pass beyond the grounds.

It was a slumbrous day in early summer, and the grounds being very wideand extensive, I had rather an enjoyable forenoon of it. I determinedthat I would calculate to a nicety how long it should have taken me toget down to Holborn and back again, allowing a margin for accidentaldelays. Then I would put in an appearance at the house, and tell thedoctor that I had reached the shop, only to find that the book had beensent off.

It may have been some sentimental feeling that carried my feet in thedirection of that dark and half-ruined summer-house; or, as I thinknow, some direct Providence guiding me. Believing that it would bedeserted, and that I might kill time there with some comfort, I wasmaking straight for it among the tangled grasses and dead leaves of thegarden, when I stopped, and drew away from it. For I had heard voices.

I make no attempt to excuse my conduct; I only urge that at that time Iwas surrounded by mysteries, and by trickery of every sort, and that Iwas, moreover, in hiding, in peril of my liberty. All the world might beconspiring against me—above all, those in this house, with oneexception, might be only too glad to give me up to justice. I wasfighting for myself; I make no excuse that I crept near to thesummer-house, and listened. More than that, I looked in, for through achink of the ruined boarding at the back of it I could see clearly allthat happened.

Debora Matchwick was seated in a corner, drawn up tense and still, withher hands gripping the seat on either side of her; and in the doorway,with his arms folded, completely blocking her way of escape, stood thedoctor.

It would seem that I had arrived at the very moment the man haddiscovered her, for his first words referred to the previous day.Whatever other words I had heard had been but a mere skirmishing beforethe actual battle began.

"I lost you in this direction yesterday, Debora," said the man; "youmanaged to elude me rather cleverly. What makes you afraid of me?"

"I—I'm not afraid of you," she said, with more bravery than she seemedto feel.

He laughed at her, showing his white teeth. "You're very much afraid ofme," he corrected her. "And yet you have no reason to be; we shouldnever be afraid of those who love us."

"You are my guardian, and you were my father's friend," she saidquietly. "Beyond that guardianship you have nothing to do with me, and Iwill not——"

"You talk like a child, and you have a child's knowledge of the world,"he broke in roughly. "I that am a man can teach you, as only a man canteach a woman, what life and the world hold for her. Prudishly you stepaside; with false modesty you refuse to look at facts as they are. Youare a child no longer, in the ordinary sense of things; and I am a manthat loves you. Your father liked me——"

"And he would have approved of the arrangement. Above all things, themanagement of your extremely troublesome affairs are in my hands, and ifyou belonged to me the whole thing would be solidified. I have greatpower in regard to your fortune now; I should have greater powers then."

"It's the fortune that tempts you!" she exclaimed, starting to her feet."God forgive me for saying it, but my father must have been mad when hemade up his mind to place me in your care. I hate you—but I'm notafraid of you. I hate you!"

Bardolph Just stepped forward quickly, and took her prisoner in hisarms. I had made a sudden movement, recklessly enough, to run round thesummer-house and spring upon the man, as I heard her give a littlegasping cry, when there came a strange interruption; and it came fromoutside and from inside the summer-house almost at the same moment.

I had heard the doctor say, over and over again, with a sort of savagetriumph, as he held her, "You shall love me! You shall love me! Youshall love me!" and I had made that movement of which I speak, whenthere broke in the sound of someone singing, in a high querulous voice,and that someone was moving towards the summer-house. The girl heardthe sound, and she broke away from the man who held her; she seemedliterally to shriek out a name—

All the rest happened in a flash. Scarcely knowing what I did, I ranround and confronted them all—and that, too, at the moment that thegirl, breaking from the summer-house, ran swiftly to where the littlegrey-headed old man was emerging from the trees. In her agitation sheflung herself at his feet, and caught at his hands, and cried out herquestion:

We stood there in silence, waiting to see what would happen. For bothBardolph Just and myself could have answered the question, but what wasthe man Capper about to say? This was just such a crisis as I had beenexpecting and fearing; it seemed hours before the little grey-hairedman, who had been looking down at her in a bewildered fashion, made anyreply.

"I don't—don't know," he said, and he smiled round upon us ratherfoolishly, I thought.

"But, Capper—you remember me, Capper; I was your master's friend," wenton the girl despairingly. "You remember that Mr. Pennington came to thishouse—oh!—oh, a week ago!"

She had risen to her feet, and was staring into his eyes. He put a handover those eyes for a moment, and seemed to ponder something; then helooked up, and slowly shook his head. "I can't—I can't remember," hesaid. "Something has gone from me—here"—he laid the hand upon hisforehead—"and I can't remember."

The doctor drew a deep breath, and took a step towards the girl; of mehe seemed to take but little notice. "Don't worry the man, Debora," hesaid in a gentle tone; "I can't make him out myself, sometimes. Why heshould remain here, where his master is not, I cannot understand."

Both Just and the girl spoke of the old man in hushed tones, as theymight have spoken of someone who was ill. But Capper himself stoodlooking smilingly from one face to the other, as if his eyes wouldquestion them concerning this mystery in which he was involved.

"Has he been here ever since—since Mr. Pennington disappeared?" askedthe girl.

"I don't know what you're talking about," retorted the doctor, with aperplexed frown. "Disappeared? How could Gregory Pennington disappear? Irefused to allow him to come here; I have seen nothing of him for sometime."

I knew, of course, that the doctor was keeping from her the knowledge ofthe unfortunate young man's suicide—I realised that that knowledge mustbe kept from her, for my sake as well, unless disaster was to fall uponme. But the girl was looking at Bardolph Just keenly, and I wondered howhe could meet her eyes as calmly as he did.

"The night before I went to Green Barn with Leach," she said slowly, "Iwas in these grounds with Gregory. And that night he went into the houseto see you."

"To see me?" The doctor twisted about from one to the other of us inapparent perplexity. "To see me? I haven't seen the young man formonths."

"Then what, in the name of all that's wonderful, is Capper doing here?"demanded Debora, pointing to that strange, smiling creature, who seemedthe least interested of any of us.

For a moment even the doctor was nonplussed, for that was a question towhich there seemed to be no possible answer—or, at least, no answerthat should prove satisfactory. It was, indeed, the strangest scene, tous, at least, who understood the true inwardness of it: that littlegrey-haired man, who might carry locked up in his numbed brain somethingthat presently should leak out; the girl demanding to know the reason ofhis presence there; and the doctor and myself with the full knowledge ofwhat had really happened, and of where Gregory Pennington lay hidden.

Bardolph Just, however, was the last man to be placed at a disadvantagefor any length of time. In a moment or two he laughed easily, andshrugged his shoulders. "'Pon my word, I don't know!" he replied, inreference to the girl's question. "I can make neither head nor tail ofhim; but as his master is not here, I scarcely care to turn him out intothe world in his present condition."

"Can't say," retorted the doctor quickly. "But I should judge him tohave had a stroke of some kind. At all events, Debora, I don't want youto think that I'm a brute; and as Gregory Pennington was a friend ofyours—I should say, is a friend of yours—the old man shall stay hereuntil—until his master returns."

I noticed that Capper kept close beside the girl as she moved awaytowards the house; he looked up at her trustingly, as a child might havedone who wanted a guide. As they walked away together, Bardolph Juststepped forward and laid a hand on the girl's arm. I heard what he saiddistinctly.

"I have not said my last word, by any means," he said in his smoothvoice; "nor is this the end."

"It is the end so far as I am concerned," she retorted, withoutslackening her pace. "You shall be my guardian no longer; I'll arrangesomething, so that I can get out into the world and live for myself andin my own fashion."

"We'll see about that," he retorted, between his teeth. "Go to yourroom, and remain there."

She gave him a glance of contempt, that had yet in it some spice offear, as she turned away and made for the house, with old Cappertrotting dog-like beside her. Then the doctor turned to me, and althoughI saw that there were certain white spots coming and going at the edgesof his nostrils and on his cheek bones, he yet spoke calmlyenough—indeed, a little amusedly.

"What do you think of that for pretty defiance?" he asked; then, sinkinghis voice to a lower tone, and taking a step nearer to me, he wenton—"She's getting suspicious about that boy; and the madman who's goneoff with her now is likely to cause trouble. I don't know what to dowith him, but I shall have to devise something. Don't forget, my friend,that if the worst comes to the worst you're in the same boat with me—orin a worse boat. I've only cheated the authorities for your sake; I canplead human sympathy and kindliness, and all sorts of things—which youcan't."

"Is that a threat?" I demanded, for now my gratitude was being fastswallowed up in a growing dislike of the man.

"Yes, and no," he replied, with a faint smile. "I'm only suggesting thatyou will find it wise, whatever happens, to fight on my side, and onmine only. I think you understand?"

I answered nothing; I followed him, sullenly enough, to the house. Bythat time I had quite forgotten the errand on which I had been sent, andwhich I had made no effort to accomplish; only when we were near to thehouse he turned quickly, and startled me by referring to it.

"By the way, you had your journey for nothing," he said. "The bookarrived while you were gone. Did you meet with any adventures?"

I was destined for another adventure, and a more alarming one, thatnight. There was no ceremony used in the doctor's house, and he made noattempt to dress for dinner. For that matter, I had not as yet seen anyguests, and the doctor, on one or two occasions at least, had had hismeals carried up to his study. So far as dinner was concerned, itusually happened that in the recesses of the house someone clanged adismal bell at the time the food was actually put upon the table, and Iwould go down, either to sit alone, or to find the doctor awaiting me.You will remember that the girl Debora had been away for the whole ofthat eventful week.

The dining-room was dimly lighted by a big, shaded lamp, standing on thecentre of the table; so that when I went in on this night, and lookedabout me, I could see figures seated, but could not clearly distinguishfaces. The doctor I saw in his usual place, stooping forward into thelight of the lamp to sup at his soup; I saw the bent head of the girl atone side of the table. I moved round the table to reach my place, and asI did so saw that another man was seated opposite the girl, so making afourth. I could not see his face, as it was in shadow. I wondered who hemight be.

The doctor bent forward, so as to look round the lamp at me, called me(God be praised for it!) by that new name he had given me—

I sat frozen in my chair, keeping my face in shadow, and wondering whatI should do. For I knew the man—had known him intimately on thoseoccasions when I had broken out of my uncle's house at night, and hadgone on wild excursions. I saw him glance towards me; I knew that heknew my history, and what had become of me; and I wondered how soon hewas to start up in his place, and cry out who I was, and demand to knowwho lay buried in my place. I left my soup untasted, and sat upright,keeping my face above the light cast by the lamp.

"Mr. Harvey Scoffold is an old friend of mine," said Bardolph Just,"although we have not met for some time. A worthy fellow—though he doesnot take quite so deep an interest in the serious things of life as Ido."

"Not I," exclaimed the other man, squaring his shoulders, and givingvent to a hearty laugh that rang through the room. "I'm a verybutterfly, if a large one; and life's the biggest joke that ever Itasted. I hope our new friend is of the same order?"

I mumbled something unintelligible, and, after looking at me intentlyfor a moment, he turned and began to speak to his host. I think I hadjust decided that I had better feign illness, and get up and make a runfor dear life, when he staggered us all by a question, put in hishearty, careless fashion.

"By the way," he said, looking from the doctor to the girl, and backagain, "what's become of that youngster I used to see here—GregoryPennington? I took quite a fancy to the boy. Does anyone know where heis?"

CHAPTER IV.

A LITTLE WHITE GHOST.

With the putting of that most awkward question as to what had become ofGregory Pennington, it may be said that a sort of bombshell fell intoour midst. I leaned further back, determined to gain what respite Icould in the shadows of the room before the inevitable discovery shouldfall upon me; and of the four of us only the girl, Debora Matchwick,leaned forward eagerly, peering round the lamp at the man who had askedthe question.

"That's what we want to know," she said, in a quick, nervous voice."Gregory has disappeared."

"Nonsense!" It was the doctor who broke in testily, still keeping hisface in shadow. "You mustn't get such ideas into your head, child. Youngmen, strong, and well, and healthy, don't disappear in that fashion. Iordered him away from the house, and he has respected my wishes. Don'tlet me hear such nonsensical talk again."

The girl drew back, with a little quick sigh, and for a moment or twothere was an abashed silence on the part of Scoffold and myself. ButScoffold was never the man to be abashed long by anything; in a momentor two he leaned his big body forward over the table, so that I saw hisface fully in the light of the shaded lamp, and glanced quickly fromone to the other of us, and began to put questions. And with eachquestion it seemed that he probed the matter more deeply.

"But tell me, what had my young friend done to be forbidden the house?"he asked. Then, answered in a fashion by the silence about him, heshrugged his shoulders, and spread out his great hands deprecatingly.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he went on. "I see that I'm prying into secrets, andthat was never my way at all. Only I was interested in Gregory—a finefellow, with a future before him. A little reckless, perhaps—a littlegiven to the spending of money; but then, that is ever a fault of theyoung. If I did not wish to pry into secrets," he added a littlemaliciously, as he peered round the lamp at the girl, "I might suggestthat perhaps his disappearance may have had something to do with MissDebora here—eh? There are so many hearts to be broken in this world ofpretty faces, Miss Debora."

The girl sat rigid and silent; presently the man leaned back in hischair again, with a little laugh, as the servants entered with the nextcourse. I saw the woman Leach hovering about near the doorway; Iwondered if we were to have another such scene as we had had thatmorning. But nothing happened until the servants had gone, with Leachfollowing last. Then this unlucky guest had another word to say.

"I see you still keep your faithful retainer," said Harvey Scoffold,with a jerk of his great head towards the door. "Remarkable woman,that—and quite devoted to you, doctor."

"Servants are servants, and are kept in their places," retorted BardolphJust coldly.

"But, my dear Just," broke in the irrepressible one again, "Leach issurely more than a servant. How many years has she been with you?"

"I haven't taken the trouble to count," replied the doctor. "Shall wechange the conversation?"

Mr. Scoffold abruptly complied, by turning his attention to me, somewhatto my dismay. "Do you belong to these parts, Mr.—Mr. John New?" heasked.

I murmured in a low tone that I belonged to London, and as I spoke I sawhim lean forward quickly, as if to get a better glimpse of me; but Iobstinately kept my face in shadow.

"Ah!" he went on. "London's a fine place, but with temptations. I oftenthink that it would be well if we could prevent young men from evergoing to London at all—let 'em wait until they have reached years ofdiscretion, and know what the world is like. I've seen so much in thatdirection—so many lives that have gone down into the shadows, and neveremerged again. I could give you a case in point—rather an interestingstory, if you would not be bored by it." He glanced round the table amidsilence.

Now, I knew instinctively what story he was going to tell, before everhe said a word of it; I knew the story was my own. I sat there,spellbound; I strove to get a glimpse of Bardolph Just at the furtherend of the table, but he did not move, and the only face of the four ofus that could be seen was the face, animated and smiling, of HarveyScoffold.

"The story is a little sad—and I detest sad things," the man began,"but it has the merit of a moral. You are to imagine a young man, ofgood education, and with a credulous and doting old man—an uncle, infact—as his sole guardian. He rewards the credulous old man by robbinghim right and left, and he spends the proceeds of his robberies invicious haunts in London."

I may here interpolate that the only vicious haunt I had known in Londonhad been the house of Mr. Harvey Scoffold, and that most of the money Ihad stolen had gone, in one way and another, into his pockets—but thisby the way.

"His name was Norton Hyde," went on Scoffold. "I beg your pardon—didyou speak?" This last was to the doctor, who had leaned forward, so thatI saw his face clearly, and had uttered an exclamation.

"No," he replied. "Pray proceed with your story." He leaned sideways,under pretence of filling his glass, and gave me a warning glance downthe length of the table.

"Well, this Norton Hyde paid the penalty, in due course, of his crime,"went on Scoffold, leaning back in his chair again. "He was sentenced toa certain term of penal servitude, served part of it, escaped from hisprison——"

"The story is well known, and we need hear no more, my dear Scoffold,"broke in the doctor. "I don't want to shock Miss Debora, nor to have hershocked."

"But I am interested," said the girl, leaning forward. "Please go on,Mr. Scoffold."

"You hear—she's interested," said the man with a smile, as he leanedforward again, and looked round the lamp at the girl. "It's verydreadful, but very fascinating. You must know, then, Miss Debora, thatthe fellow broke prison, and made a desperate attempt to get back toLondon; reached a house somewhere on its outskirts; and then, beingevidently hard pressed, gave up the game in despair, and committedsuicide."

"Poor, poor fellow!" commented the girl, in a low tone; and I felt myheart go out to her in gratitude.

"And that was the end of him," went on Mr. Scoffold, with a snap of thefingers. "They carried him back—dead—to his prison; and they buriedhim within its walls. So much for Buckingham!"

"Now, perhaps, you can contrive to talk of something a little morepleasant," said the doctor testily. "You've given us all the horrors,with your talk of imprisonments, and suicides, and what not. You used tobe pleasant company at one time, Harvey."

"And can be so still," exclaimed the other lightly. "But I'm afraid it'sthis dark room of yours that gave that turn to the conversation: onesits in shadow among shadows. May I move this lamp, or may I at leasttake the shade off?" He put a hand to it as he spoke.

If ever I had trembled in my life, I trembled then; but I sat rigid, andwaited, trusting in that stronger man at the further end of the table.Nor was my trust in him betrayed.

"Leave the lamp alone," he said sharply. "It's not safe to be moved;it's rather an old one, and shaky. Besides, I prefer this light."

"You always were a queer fellow," said Scoffold, dropping back into hisseat again. "And to-night you're a dull one. I swear I couldn't endureyour company," he proceeded with a laugh, "if it were not for thecharming lady who faces me, and who is mostly hidden by your beast of alamp. Even our friend, Mr. New here, hasn't a word to say for himself;but perhaps he'll come out stronger under the influence of one of yourcigars presently."

I vowed in my heart that there should be no cigars for me that night inhis company; my brain was active with the thought of how best I couldescape. I was perplexed to know how it was that he had not rememberedthat it was in this very house, according to the tale, that Norton Hydehad committed suicide; but for that point, he had the whole thing inchapter and verse. I was comforted, however, by the thought that it wasto the interests of Bardolph Just to help me out of the scrape; I sawthat he was as much astonished to learn that Harvey Scoffold knew me asI was to find the man in that house.

But for my desperate strait, I must have been amused at the doctor'sperplexity. I saw, just as surely as though he had stated it in words,that he was working hard at that puzzle: how to get Norton Hyde out ofthat room unobserved. Fortunately for the solution of that problem, hemust have known how eager I was to get away; and presently he contrivedthe business in the simplest fashion.

We had come near to the end of the dinner, and it was about time forDebora to leave us. I knew that he dreaded that if she got up it wouldmean a breaking-up of our relative positions at the table, and I must bediscovered. I was dreading that, too, when relief came.

"I say, New," he called to me down the length of the table, "I know youhave that business of which you spoke to clear up to-night. We're allfriends here, and we'll excuse you."

I murmured my thanks, and got up, designing to pass behind HarveyScoffold, and so escape observation. But, as ill luck would have it,Debora saw in the movement an opportunity for her own escape; she rosequickly, and the inevitable happened. Harvey Scoffold blundered to hisfeet to open the door.

And there we were in a moment, above the light of the lamp, and allmaking for the door together; for the doctor, in his consternation, hadrisen also. Scoffold got to the door before me, and held it open forthe girl; and for one disastrous moment I hesitated. For there was alight outside in the hall, and I dared not face it. Properly, of course,I should have followed the girl with my face averted; but even in that Iblundered, and so found myself suddenly looking into the eyes of HarveyScoffold, as he stood there holding the door.

It was as though he had seen a ghost. He gasped, and took a step back;and the next moment I was out of the room, and had pulled the door closeafter me. Even as I did so, I heard his voice raised loudly andexcitedly in the room, and heard the deeper tones of Bardolph Just.

There was no time to be lost, and I looked about me for the quickest wayof escape. I was groping in the dark, as it were, because I did not evenknow whether the man was a chance visitor, and I might safely hide insome other room of the house, or whether he was staying there, and socould leave me no choice but to get away altogether. And while Ihesitated, my mind was made up for me, as it has been so often in mylife, in the most curious fashion.

I saw that Debora had stopped at the foot of the stairs, and was lookingback at me; and in a moment, in the thought of her, I forgot my ownperil. I took a step towards her, and she bent her head towards mine, asshe stood a step or two above me on the stairs, and whispered—

Then she was gone, before I could make reply, and I was left there,standing helplessly looking after her.

In that moment I lost my chance. The dining-room door was opened, andthe two men came out quickly; it seemed to me that Harvey Scoffold wasspeaking excitedly, and that the doctor, who had a hand on his arm, wasstriving to soothe him. I made a dart for the stairs—too late, for thevoice of Scoffold called me back.

"Here, don't run away; I want to talk to you!" he cried. "There's amystery here——"

"Not so loud!" exclaimed the doctor sternly, in a low tone. "If you'veanything to say, don't shout it in the hall in that fashion. I trustwe're gentlemen; let us go and talk quietly in my study. John, you knowthe way—lead on."

So, knowing well what was to follow, I went on up the stairs, until Icame to the door of that room that was half study and half surgery; Iopened the door and went in. To gain time, I went to the further end ofit, and stood looking out of the window into the darkness. I calculatedthat it might be a drop of twelve or fourteen feet, if he drove me toofar and I had to take flight. I was prepared for everything, and had forthe moment—God forgive me!—clean forgotten what the girl had said tome. The two other men came into the room, and the door was closed. Iheard the doctor speak in his most genial tones.

"Now, my dear Harvey, let's understand what bee you have in your bonnet.What's this about an escaped convict—and in my house? If I didn't knowyou better, I should suggest that my wine had been too much for you."

"Don't bluff, doctor: it would be far better to ask our friend there toshow us his face clearly. If a man's honest he doesn't turn his back onhis friends."

At that I threw discretion to the winds; I faced round upon himsavagely. "Friends!" I exclaimed bitterly. "When were you ever a friendto me, Harvey Scoffold?"

The man laughed, and shrugged his shoulders. "Truly you are indiscreet,"he said, with a triumphant glance at the doctor. "But youth is everimpatient, and one cannot expect that you, of all men, should becautious. You never were. Come—can't we sit down and talk quietly, andsee what is to be done?"

"There is nothing to be done—at least nothing that concerns you," saidBardolph Just quickly, as he stopped in the act of pulling open thatdrawer in his desk which held the cigars. "What in the world is it to dowith you?"

"Oh-o! soyou are in the swim, too, eh?" exclaimed Scoffold, turningupon him with raised eyebrows. "I thought it possible that you mighthave been deceived—that our friend here might have come upon yousuddenly, and induced you to help him, without your knowing who he was."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders, and took out a cigar. In the act ofbiting the end of it with his sharp white teeth he looked at the otherman with a smile that was deadly—it was as though he snarled over thecigar. "I knew all about our friend here from the beginning," he said."Be careful, Harvey; you know me by this time, and you know it's betterto have me for a friend than an enemy. Once more I warn you not to askquestions, and not to interfere in what does not concern you. Take acigar, and sit down and smoke."

Scoffold took the cigar, and stood for a moment or two, while he lightedit, looking from one to the other of us, as though weighing the mattercarefully in his mind. He voiced his feelings as he put the match to thecigar, and puffed at it.

"Norton Hyde escaped from prison"—puff—"Norton Hyde hangshimself"—puff—"Norton Hyde is duly sat upon by a coroner and ajury"—puff—"Norton Hyde is buried in a prison grave." He looked at thelighted end of his cigar carefully, and tossed the match from him. "Andyet my dear friend, Norton Hyde, stands before me. Any answer to thatpuzzle?" He looked at me and at the doctor, and laughed quietly.

Truly the game appeared to be in his hands, and I knew enough of him toknow that he was a man to be feared. It was, of course, a merecoincidence that the man who had helped me to my ruin was a friend ofthis man upon whose hospitality I had so unceremoniously flung myself;nor did it mend matters to know that he was a friend of the dead boy. Ithink we both waited for his next remark, knowing pretty well what itwould be.

"A natural answer springs up at once to the puzzle," he went on, seemingliterally to swell his great bulk at us in his triumph. "Some man wasburied as Norton Hyde—some man who must have been able to pass musterfor him. What man could that have been?"

"You're getting on dangerous ground: I tell you you'd better let italone," broke in the doctor warningly.

But the other man went on as though the doctor had not spoken. "Some manlies in that grave, who has disappeared, and for whom no enquiry hasbeen made. Now, who can that man be? What man is there that hasn't beenseen for some days—what man is there that is being looked for now?"

In the tense silence of the room, while the man looked from one to theother of us, absolutely dominating the situation, there came aninterruption that was so terrible, and so much an answer to what the manwas asking, that I could have shrieked out like a frightened woman.Behind him, where he stood, I saw the door of the study slowly opening,and then the smiling face of the little grey-haired man looked round it.Scoffold did not see him; only the doctor and I turned our startledfaces to the smiling face of Capper. And Capper spoke—

"Forgive me, gentlemen"—and Scoffold swung round on the words and facedhim—"I'm looking for my master, Mr. Pennington."

"Gregory Pennington, by the Lord!" shouted Harvey Scoffold, with a greatclap of his hands together.

The doctor turned quickly to the door. I saw him thrust Capper outside,and close the door, and turn the key in it. He put the key in hispocket, and his eyes looked dangerous; he was as a man driven at bay.

"Well, you think you've made some great and wonderful discovery," hesnapped. "Perhaps you have—at all events, you shall know the truth ofthe matter from beginning to end. I'll keep nothing back."

"You can't, you know," sneered the other, dropping his great bulk intoan arm-chair, and puffing luxuriously at his cigar.

I stood with my back to the window while the doctor told the story. Hetold it from beginning to end, and quite clearly. Of the coming of thedisappointed Gregory Pennington to the house, after an interview withthe girl; of that mad, rash act of the unsuccessful lover; of thefinding of him hanging dead. He told of my coming, and painted a littleluridly my desperate threats and pleadings; told of how he had givenway, and had dressed poor Gregory Pennington in my shameful clothes.When he had finished the narrative Harvey Scoffold nodded, as ifsatisfied with that part of it, and sat for a time smoking, while weawaited what he had to say.

"It never struck me that it was in this house the convict (as thenewspapers called him) hanged himself," he said at last. "Upon my word,the puzzle fits together very neatly. But what happens, my friends,when someone enquires for young Pennington? For instance, myself."

He laughed, and shook his head gaily. "Not so fast, my young friend, notso fast!" he answered me. "I may have an axe to grind—I have groundmany in my time. Besides—putting me right out of the question—what ofthe girl? How do you silence her?"

"I can find a way even to do that," replied the doctor in a low voice."Only let me warn you again, Harvey Scoffold, we are desperate menhere—or at least one of us—fighting for something more even thanliberty. I am fighting to keep this innocent girl's name out of thebusiness, and to keep scandal away from this house. Let Norton Hyde restin his grave; Gregory Pennington is not likely to be enquired for. Hewas young and restless; he may have gone abroad—enlisted—anything.That's our tale for the world, if questions are asked."

"It only occurs to me that the virtuous uncle of our young friendhere—the man who was robbed so audaciously—would give a great deal toknow that the nephew who robbed him was at large," suggested HarveyScoffold musingly over his cigar.

He held up a large protesting hand. "My dear boy, I am your friend; Iwas always your friend. You are quite safe with me," he said. Yet I knewthat he lied.

He made one other comment on the matter before wisely leaving thesubject alone. "It seems to me strange," he observed, with a furtivelook at the doctor, "that you should be so willing to help our youngfriend here—a man you have never seen."

"I do that," replied the other quickly, "because in that way I can coverup the miserable business of young Pennington. Unless you speak, it isscarcely likely that anyone else will ever drag that business into thelight of day. Both Gregory Pennington and our friend here happen to havebeen particularly alone in the world: in neither case is there anyonewho is likely to make awkward inquiries."

"Always excepting the girl," Harvey Scoffold reminded him. "So far as Iam concerned, you have nothing to fear from me; I shall merely be anamused spectator of the little comedy; I don't know yet exactly how it'sgoing to end."

He was tactful enough to say nothing more then, and we presentlydrifted, almost with cheerfulness, into some more ordinary conversation.Yet I saw that the man watched us both from between half-closed eyelidswhile he smoked and lounged in his chair; and I was far fromcomfortable. It was late when the doctor rose, and with a glance at theclock said that he had still much work to do before he could sleep. Heunlocked the door; at which hint Harvey Scoffold and I left him for thenight.

The excitement of the meeting had quite thrust out of my mind thequestion whether the man was stopping in the house or had merely comethere as a chance visitor; but the question was answered now, whenHarvey Scoffold told me that he had a long walk before him, and was gladthat the night was fine. I felt some sudden uplifting of the heart atthe thought that at least I should be relieved of his presence, only tofeel that heart sinking the next moment, at the remembrance that hewould be free to spread his news in the outer world, if he cared to doso. For it must be understood that my public trial, and all thedisclosures thereat, had given to the world the address of my uncle, andmy own movements on those secret expeditions of mine; it was possiblefor Harvey Scoffold to put that veiled threat of his into instantexecution.

I knew, moreover, that he was a dangerous man, by reason of the factthat he was chronically in want of money, and had never hesitated as tothe methods employed to obtain it. However, there was no help for itnow; the murder was out, and I could only trust to that extraordinaryluck that had befriended me up to the present.

I walked with him out into the grounds, and he shook hands with me atparting, with some cordiality. "You have had a miraculous escape, dearboy," he said, in his jovial fashion, "and you are quite a littleromance in yourself. I shall watch your career with interest. And youhave nothing to fear—I shall be as silent as the grave in which youought to be lying."

He laughed noisily at that grim jest, and took his way down the road inthe direction of London. I went back into the house and went to my room,and slept heavily until late the next morning.

The doctor had left the house when I went down to breakfast, and I had adim hope that I might see the girl alone. But she did not put in anappearance, nor did I see anything of her until the evening, when thedoctor had returned, and the three of us sat down to dinner. I had beenroaming desolately about the grounds, smoking the doctor's cigars, andinwardly wondering what I was going to do with the rest of the life thathad been miraculously given back to me; and I did not know at what hourBardolph Just had returned. Yet I had a feeling that there had been somestrange interview between the doctor and the girl before I had come uponthe scene—and a stormy interview at that. Bardolph Just sat at his endof the table, grim and silent, with his brows contracted, and with hishabitual smile gone from his lips; the girl sat white and silent,sipping a little wine, but touching no food. During the course of amelancholy meal no single word was heard in the room, for the doctor didnot even address the servants.

At the end of the meal, however, when the girl rose to quit the room,the doctor rose also, and barred her way. "Stop!" he said quickly. "I'vegot to speak to you. We'll have this matter cleared up—once and forall."

"I have nothing more to say," she replied, looking at him steadily. "Myanswer is what it has always been—No!"

"You can go, John New," said the man harshly, turning towards me. "Iwant to talk to Miss Matchwick alone."

"No, no!" exclaimed the girl, stretching out her hands towards me; andon the instant I stopped on my way to the door, and faced about.

But the doctor took a quick step towards me, and opened the door, andjerked his head towards the hall. "I am master here," he said. "Go!"

I saw that I should not mend matters by remaining, but I determined tobe within call. I passed quickly along the hall after the door wasclosed; I knew that just within the great hall door itself was anothersmaller door, opening to a verandah which ran round the front of thedining-room windows, on the old-fashioned early Victorian model. I knewthat the windows were open, and I thought that I might by good fortuneboth see and hear what went on in the room.

And so it turned out. I slipped through that smaller door, and came onto the verandah; and so stood drawn up in the shadows against the sideof the window, looking in and listening.

"I have given you the last chance," the doctor was saying, "and now Ishall trouble you no more. There is another way, and perhaps a betterone. I have treated you well. I have offered to make you my wife—toplace you in the position your father would have been glad to see youoccupy. Now I have done with you, and we must try the other way. Lookinto my eyes!"

Then I saw a curious thing happen. At first, while the man lookedintently at her with those extraordinarily bright eyes of his, shecovered her own with her hands, and strove to look away; but after amoment or two she dropped her hands helplessly, and shivered, and lookedintently at him full. It was like the fascination of some helpless birdby a snake. I saw her sink slowly into a chair behind her; and still shenever took her eyes from those of the doctor, until at last her lidsfell, and she seemed to lie there asleep. Then I heard the man's voicesaying words that had no meaning for my ears at that time.

"You will not sleep well to-night, little one," he said, in a curiouscrooning voice. "You will rise from your bed, and you will come out insearch of something. Is it not so?"

"You will be restless, and you will seek to get out into the air. Butall the doors will be bolted, and the windows fastened. So you will turnto the eastern corridor and will pass along there to the end wall. Doyou understand?"

She murmured, "At midnight"; and on a sudden he snapped his fingersviolently three times before her eyes, and she sprang up, wide awake,and stared at him, looking at him in perplexity.

"You've been asleep for ever so long," he said, with a smile. "You mustbe tired; go to your room."

She looked at him in a dazed fashion, and passed her hand across herforehead. "What were we speaking of?" she asked him, as though referringto the conversation they had had before he had sent her into thatspecies of trance.

Fearing that he might come in my direction after he had sent her fromthe room, I vaulted over the railing of the verandah, which was onlyraised a few feet above the level of the ground. And so presently cameround by the side entrance into the house, and, as was my custom, wentup to the doctor's study to smoke with him.

I found him pacing up and down, chewing the butt of a cigar that hadlong gone out. He glanced up quickly when I entered, and jerked his headtowards the open drawer in the desk where the cigars were.

"I must ask you to take your cigar and smoke it elsewhere to-night," hesaid. "I have work to do, and I am very busy. Good-night."

I longed to stop and talk with him—cursed my own impotent position,which gave me no chance of trying conclusions with him and befriendingthe girl. I remembered bitterly the words she had said to me at the footof the staircase on the previous night, when she had begged me not toleave her alone in that house. So I went away, reluctantly enough, tosmoke my cigar elsewhere.

I wandered down into the dining-room, and dropped into a chair, andclosed my eyes. Suddenly I remembered that it was that chair into whichthe girl had dropped when the doctor had said those words I did notunderstand. I sat up, very wide awake, remembering.

She was to walk along the eastern corridor, and was to come to a wall atthe end. And yet she was to walk out into the air! What did it all mean?What trick was the man about to play upon her? What devilry was afoot?

I got up at once, and threw away my cigar, and set off to explore thehouse. I wanted to know where this eastern corridor was, if such a placeexisted, and what was meant by the doctor's words. I went up to my ownroom first, and made out, as well as I could, by remembering which waythe sun rose, and other matters, in what direction the house wassituated; and so came to the conclusion that the room to which I hadbeen assigned was at the end of the eastern corridor, nearest to thegreat bulk of the house. Which is to say, that if I stood in the doorwayof my room, and faced the corridor, the other rooms of the house wouldbe on my right hand, while on my left the corridor stretched away intodarkness, past rooms that, so far as I knew, were unoccupied.

Lest by any chance my windows should be watched, I lit the lamp in myroom and left it; then I came out into the corridor, and closed thedoor. I looked over the head of the great staircase; the house was incomplete silence, though not yet in darkness. Listening carefully, Imoved away swiftly into the gathering darkness to the left, until atlast, at the end of the corridor, my outstretched hand touched the wall.This was exactly as it should be, according to the doctor's words. I nowturned my attention to the wall itself, and found that it wasrecessed—much as though at some time or other it had been a window thathad been bricked up. I could make nothing of it, and I went back to myroom, sorely puzzled.

I must have a torpid brain, for I was ever given to much sleeping. Onthis occasion I sank down into a chair, intending to sit there for afew minutes and think the matter out. In less than five, I was asleep.When I awoke I felt chilled and stiff, and I blamed myself heartily fornot having gone to bed. While I yawned and stretched my arms, I becameaware of a curious noise going on in the house. With my arms stillraised above my head, I stopped to listen.

Whatever noise it was came from the end of the corridor where I hadfound that blank wall. Some instinct made me put out the light; then inthe darkness I stole towards the door, and cautiously opened it. Outsidethe corridor was dark, or seemed to be at my first glance; I dropped tomy knees, and peered round the edge of the door, looking to right andleft.

To the right all was in darkness; the servants had gone to bed, afterextinguishing the lights and locking up. To the left, strangely enough,a faint light shone; and as I turned my eyes in that direction I sawthat a small hand-lamp was standing on the floor, and that above itloomed the figure of a man, casting a grotesque shadow on the walls andceiling above him. I made enough of the figure to know that it was thedoctor, and that he was working hard at that end wall.

I was puzzling my brains to know what he was doing, and was strivinghard to connect his presence there with what he had said to the girl,when I heard a grinding and a creaking, and suddenly the lamp that stoodbeside him was blown out in a gust of wind that came down the corridorand touched my face softly as I knelt there. Then, to my utteramazement, I saw the night sky and the stars out beyond where that endwall had been.

I had just time to get back into my room and to close the door, when thedoctor came tiptoeing back along the corridor, and vanished like ashadow into the shadows of the house. I waited for a time, and thenstruck a match, and looked at the little clock on the mantelpiece. Itwanted four minutes of midnight.

I opened the door again, and looked out into the corridor; then, on animpulse, I stole along towards that newly-opened door, or whatever itwas, and, coming to it, looked out into the night. It was at a greaterheight from the ground than I had thought possible, because on that sideof the house the ground shelved away sharply, and there was in additiona deep, moat-like trough, into which the basement windows looked. Morethan ever puzzled, I was retracing my steps, when I heard a slight soundat the further end, like the light rustle of a garment mingled with theswift patter of feet.

I will confess that my nerves were unstrung, and they were thereforescarcely prepared for the shock they had now to endure. For coming downthe corridor, straight towards where I stood drawn up against the wall,was a little figure in a white garment, and with fair flowing hair overits shoulders; and that figure came swiftly straight towards that newdoor which opened to the floor. While I stood there, paralysed by thesight, certain words floated back to my mind.

"You will be restless, and you will seek to get out into the air. Butall the doors will be bolted, and the windows fastened. So you will turnto the eastern corridor, and will pass along there to the end wall ...and then you will walk on into the air.... You will do this atmidnight!"

With a great horror upon me, I leapt in a moment, though dimly, to whatwas meant. The girl was walking to her death, and walking in her sleep.In what devilish fashion Bardolph Just had contrived the thing, or whatascendency he had gained over her that he could suggest the very hour atwhich she should rise from her bed and do it, I did not understand; buthere was the thing nearly accomplished. She was within a couple of feetof the opening, and was walking straight out into the air at that giddyheight, when I sprang forward and caught her in my arms.

She shrieked once—a shriek that seemed to echo through the night; then,with a long sobbing cry, she sank into my arms, and hid her face on myshoulder. And at the same moment I heard a door open down below in thehouse, and heard running footsteps coming towards me. I knew it was thedoctor, and I knew for what he had waited.

CHAPTER V.

I AM DRAWN FROM THE GRAVE.

You are to picture me, then, standing in that wind-swept corridor, openat one end to the stars, and holding in my arms the sobbing form ofDebora Matchwick, and waiting the coming of Dr. Bardolph Just. I awaitedthat coming with no trepidation, for now it seemed as though I stood anequal match for the man, by reason of this night's work; for if someonehad shouted "Murder!" in the silence of the house, the thing could nothave been proclaimed more clearly. I saw now that in that trance intowhich he had thrown her he had by some devilish art suggested to thegirl what she should do, and at what hour, and then had thrown open theend of the corridor, that she might step out to her death.

Exactly how much she suspected herself, or how much she had had time tograsp, since the moment when I had so roughly awakened her, I could nottell; but she clung to me, and begged me incoherently not to let her go,and not to let the man come near her. Feeling that the thing must be metbravely, I got my arm about her, and advanced with her down the corridorto meet the doctor.

He came with a light held above his head; he was panting from excitementand hurry. I know that he expected to run to the end of that corridor,and to look out, and to see what should have lain far below him; but hecame upon us advancing towards him instead, and he stopped dead andlowered his light.

"You should know that best," I answered him boldly. "Death might havebeen the matter. With your leave, I'll take this lady to her room."

He stood back against the wall, and watched us as we went past him. Hisbrows were drawn down, and his eyes were glittering, and the faint whiteline of his teeth showed between his lips. In that attitude he remained,like some figure turned to stone, while I drew the girl along, and downthe stairs; I had to ask her the way to her room, for, of course, I didnot know it. Coming to it at last, I took her cold hands in mine andheld them for a moment, and smiled as cheerfully as I could.

"This is not the time for explanations," I said; "leave all that tillthe morning. Go to bed, and try not to remember anything that hashappened; and lock your door."

I heard the key turn in the lock before I came away; not till then did Iretrace my steps back to the corridor. I was scarcely surprised to findthe man standing almost in the same attitude—only now his head hadlowered a little, and he seemed to be musing. Without moving he lookedup at me, and a queer sort of grin spread over his features.

"Smart man!" he whispered, with a sneer. "How did it happen? How much doyou know?"

"More than you would have me know?" I replied. "Would it not be well tofasten up that door again?" I jerked my head in the direction of the endof the corridor.

Without a word he handed the lamp to me, and started towards theopening. He went so quickly that I thought for the moment he meant tohurl himself upon that death he had intended for the girl; but hestopped at the end, and seemed to be fumbling with the doors.

By that time I had reached him, and, with the aid of the lamp, I couldsee that there were two heavy doors opening inwards and fastened with agreat bar that dropped across them, and with bolts at the top and at thebottom. Quite as though he had forgotten the incidents of the night, heturned to me, and gave an explanation of the doors.

"There used to be an iron staircase against the wall of the house,leading down from here at one time," he said. "It was the whim of someformer owner. I found these doors by accident."

He said nothing in reply. Having secured the doors, he motioned to me togo in front, which I did, carrying the light, and in that order we cameto my room. I would have handed him the lamp at the door, but hemotioned to me to go in, and, following himself, closed the door. I setdown the lamp, and waited for what he had to say. He was a long timecoming to it; he wandered about the room for a time, stopping now andthen, with his back to me, and with his finger tracing out the patternof the wall paper. When at last he spoke he was still tracing thatpattern, and he did not look round.

"You have done me a service to-night, and one I'm not likely to forget,"he said.

"A service?" I asked in amazement. "I should scarcely have thought you'dcall it that."

"I do—I do!" he exclaimed, swinging round upon me suddenly. "I meant tokill her, and you've saved me from that. I thank my God for it!"

"I don't believe you," I said doggedly. "You planned the thing too wellfor that."

"I did not plan it, except by the opening of the doors," he said. "Iknew that she walked in her sleep sometimes, and I thought——"

"You lie!" I exclaimed fiercely. "I watched you, and heard you while yousuggested to her that she should walk in this eastern corridor atmidnight, and should come to the end wall. And you knew that there wouldbe no wall there."

He looked at me in a bewildered fashion for what seemed a long time;then he nodded slowly twice. "So you heard that, did you? Well, Isuppose there's nothing for it but confession. I did plan the thing; itwas by a method you don't understand—what we call hypnotic suggestion.That means that you tell a person that they are to do a certain thing ata certain hour, and when that hour arrives they must inevitably setabout to do it."

"Why do we always desire to crush the thing that we can't possess?" hesnapped back at me. "Because I love her—because I would sell myimmortal soul—if I have one—to bend her or break her to my will. Youare a sleepy dolt, understanding nothing of passions such as swaystronger men; you are not likely to understand this. But she maddens mewhen she sticks that pretty chin of hers in the air, and I see thecontempt flash out of her eyes. If you saw so much, you probably saw thebeginning of it, when she said she would have nothing further to do withme, and threatened to get away out of the house. Then the thought cameover me that I would put an end to it all; and I made that suggestion toher that she should walk here to-night; and I came first, and opened theold doors. I thank God you saved her!"

He suddenly dropped his head in his hands and groaned aloud; and myheart melted a little with pity for him. I guessed something of what astormy nature was hidden in the man; and I, who thought I had readsomething of love in her eyes for me, could afford to pity the man towhose pleadings she turned a deaf ear. Fool that I was, I did notrealise the cunning of the creature who stood with hidden face beforeme; I did not understand that this was but a bit of play-acting, to putme off my guard. I was to learn all that later.

"Do you think you'll help your case by such a business as this ofto-night?" I asked. "It's a poor way to make love, to strive to kill thewoman."

"She won't know anything about it; she won't guess," he exclaimedeagerly, looking up at me. "She does not know that I suggested to herwhat to do; she will only wonder at finding the doors open. I can givesome explanation of that, if necessary."

"And what will you do now?" I asked him, as I lighted my own lamp andput his into his hand.

"Give up the game," he replied, with a faint smile. "This has taught mea lesson to-night; it has shown me how near the best of us may come to acrime. I am sincere in that; I thank you from the bottom of my heart forwhat you've done. The lover in me is gone; henceforth I'm her guardianand the friend of her dead father. There's my hand on it!"

I looked into his eyes, and once again I believed him; I began to feelthat I had misjudged the man. True, his hand was cold enough in mygrasp, but I paid no heed to that; I seemed to see only before me achanged and humbled man. He wished me "Good-night!" with muchcordiality, and went off to his own room. For my part, I felt somethingof a missionary, and congratulated myself upon the night's work.

I had made up my mind that I would see Debora as early as possible onthe following morning. I was anxious to know what impression thatstartling occurrence of the previous night had made upon her. I wantedto see her before there was any possibility of Bardolph Just confrontingher; and in that I was successful.

It was a very fine morning, and I supposed that I should find her in thegrounds. I felt that I might reasonably expect that she would make herway to that summer-house in which we had met and talked before; and inthat also I was right. Quite early, before breakfast was announced, Icame upon her in the morning sunlight; and for a long time, as itseemed, we held hands without a word.

She nodded brightly. "Better than I should have done, I suppose," shesaid, with a smile; "but then, I was sure of my friend—certain that noharm could come to me. How much have you to tell me of last night?"

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head. "There is nothing that you need betold, now that everything is ended. For the future you have to trust tome—just as you trusted last night. You said I was your friend; and I amgoing to look after you."

"That makes me very happy. By the way, what am I to call you?" she askedartlessly.

Now this is, of course, all very shameful, and I had no right to bestanding there, holding her hands, and letting her talk to me in thatfashion; but I did not remember then what I was, or from what I hadcome. Indeed, it is more than possible that if I had remembered I shouldscarcely have changed my attitude, for but little joy had ever comeinto my life. I merely set this down here, in order to record the factthat, save for one lamentable lapse, we were "John" and "Debora" to eachother from that day forward.

But I had some instructions to give her for her own safety. She listenedattentively while I gave them.

"You had better not refer to last night at all," I said. "Let the doctorimagine that you have forgotten about it, or at least have believed thatit was some ugly dream. Meet him as usual—show him, if anything, alittle more kindness than you have done."

"You must; it is imperative," I urged. "I can tell you this, at least: Ihave his promise that he will not molest you again, and that he will befor the future simply your guardian, and nothing else."

"I don't believe it, John; it's a trick," she said, shaking her head."I've seen too much of him; I know him too well. He is trying to throwyou off the scent. Don't you understand how helpless we both are? Youtell me that you are in his power, because he knows something about yourpast life: how can you fight against him, or help me?"

"I can, and I will," I assured her. "And you can help, by beingdiscreet, and by waiting until we have an opportunity to do something inconcert."

She promised faithfully that she would do that, and she left me, with asmile and a wave of the hand. I followed her slowly to the house, andfound the doctor in his usual place at the breakfast table, talkingquietly to her. The woman Leach was behind him, as usual.

It became obvious, in a minute or two, that Bardolph Just was anxious tofind out how much she remembered, or how much she understood, of theevents of the previous night; he had already begun to question Deboracautiously. He appeared to be in a genial mood, and yet in a softenedmood; he gave me a smile as I took my place.

"So you slept well?" said Bardolph Just to the girl, as he leanedtowards her. "Not disturbed by anything?"

She shook her head, and looked at him with raised eyebrows ofperplexity; truly I felt that she had learnt her lesson well. "Whatshould disturb me?"

"Nothing, nothing!" he replied, evidently at a loss. "Only I thoughtthat there was some noise in the house last night; I almost went out toinvestigate. But, of course, if you heard nothing——"

It happened that at that moment I glanced up over his head, and I sawthe woman behind him turn a swift glance out of those dark eyes of hersat the girl; it was but a momentary thing, and then her eyes were castdown in the usual humble fashion; but in that instant I had readsomething that I had not understood before. I read not only hatred ofthe girl, and defiance of her; I saw, as clearly as though it had beenwritten, that she knew of the events of the night before, and that sheknew that the girl was not speaking the truth. I wondered exactly whathad happened, or in what way she had gained her knowledge: I was tolearn that swiftly enough.

Somewhat later in the forenoon, I was practically alone in the house. Iknew that Debora had gone off into the grounds with a book, and I didnot care to disturb her. Bardolph Just had gone down into London onbusiness. I was lounging at my full length in an easy chair in thedining-room, smoking, and reading the newspaper, when the door openedsoftly, and Martha Leach came in. I did not turn my head, but I saw hermoving round the room in a large mirror hanging on the wall opposite mychair. Indeed, our eyes met in that mirror, before they met elsewhere.She stopped, and, somewhat to my surprise, spoke.

"You are a very brave man," she said, with a quick glance at the longwindows, as though fearing interruption. "And a strong man, too."

"No one tells me anything, and I don't need to be told," she answered."I find out things for myself; I watch, and discover."

I seemed to have a dim inkling of what was coming, but I think my facebetrayed nothing. I lowered the newspaper to my knee, and went onsmoking, and watching her in the mirror.

"I saw you last night in the eastern corridor; I saw you catch that girljust in time," she went on, in the same breathless sort of whisper. "Amoment later, and that would have been death."

"You seem to know a great deal about it," I answered. "Perhaps you cantell me something else."

She laughed insolently, and shrugged her shoulders. I kept my eyes uponher in the mirror. "Anything you like," she replied.

"Then tell me how you could see anything that happened in the easterncorridor last night," was my answer.

"I was in the grounds—I had been there a long time," she whispered, hereyes growing more excited. "I did not know about the door; I only knewthat something was going to happen, because the doctor kept moving aboutall the evening. I watched him go out of his room—I mean that I saw thelight disappear, and knew that he had not put it out; I saw it goacross the windows as he moved. I thought he was going to your room, andso I went round there; and then I saw your light go out. And then, as bya miracle, I saw that wall open, and the doctor stood there, like aspirit. I saw him before the light was puffed out. Then I waited to seewhat would happen."

She snapped her fingers quickly, and laughed. "Bah! you think you willput me off; you think I don't understand," she said. "I tell you I sawyou come to that door and look out; I saw you in the starlight. And thenI saw her come; heard the shriek; saw you catch her in your arms. Afterthat, the fastening of the door by the doctor, while you held the lamp.And yet this morning"—her voice changed to a tone of bitterirony—"this morning, if you please, no one knows anything about it, andeveryone has slept well. Bah!"

She snapped her fingers again, and it seemed almost as if she waited toknow what I should say. But I realised that this woman was an intimateof the doctor; and it was my business, then, to fear everyone in thathouse, save Debora. So I went on smoking, and, still without turning myhead, talked to the woman I saw in the mirror.

"Oh! a great deal," she flashed back at me, forgetting the cautiousvoice in which she had spoken. "I want, first of all, to know who youare, and how you come to be in this house so mysteriously and sosuddenly; for who saw you arrive? That I shall discover some day formyself. I discover everything in time. And I want to tell yousomething."

She moved a step nearer to my chair, and now I turned my head and lookedinto her eyes.

"He did not succeed last night; but perhaps the next time he will notfail. So surely as I stand here, so surely do I know that he will killher." She nodded her head with incredible swiftness two or three times,and drew back from me, with her lips tightly pursed.

I lost control of myself in the sudden shock of her words; I sprang tomy feet. "What do you mean?" I asked in horror. "What do you know?"

"Only what I have said," she mocked at me, as she made for the door. "Iwould advise you, Mr. Mysterious, to look well after this girl youlove—this frail thing of prettiness. For the doctor will surely killher!" Then she was gone, and I was left staring helplessly at the closeddoor.

So much had that thought been in my own mind that her words seemed butan echo. I thought I saw that this man, Bardolph Just, cheated of hispurpose in securing the girl, had made up his mind to get rid ofher—out of some insane jealousy that prompted him not to allow her togo to the arms of another man. Yet, when I came to think over theproblem, it occurred to me that if, as he had faintly suggested, hewanted control of her fortune, this would be but the act of a madman.The only possibility was that the fortune might in some way be securedby him without her.

But now that the matter had been confirmed in this startling fashion Iknew that it was imperative that I should keep a stricter watch thanever upon Debora. For suddenly it seemed to me that my absurd belief inthe man was no longer justified. I saw that the doctor had merelyadopted that attitude of penitence, the better to put me off my guard.Yet, even while I promised myself that I would do valiant things, Icould only remember my own helplessness, in being entirely dependentupon the very man against whom I wished to arm myself. I had in mypocket but a shilling or two, which he had given me for my journey downinto London—that journey which I had never taken.

As for any future that might once have seemed bright before me—whatfuture had I? I was practically in hiding under another name, and I hadno resources save those I might derive from one who knew my secret, andwas, in a great sense, my enemy. I was in love—surely more hopelesslythan mortal man had ever been before; and I was liable at any moment tobe betrayed by the man Harvey Scoffold, who had penetrated my story.Altogether, as I came to review the position, I could have heartilywished myself back in my prison again, save for one element in thebusiness. That element was Debora Matchwick, and I knew that in thestrange game I was playing Fate had destined me to fight on her side, ina matter of life and death.

Bardolph Just returned early in the afternoon, and went straight to hisstudy. Debora I had seen for an instant as she crossed the hall; shegave me a quick smile, and that was all. There seemed to be broodingover the whole house an atmosphere of expectancy—quite as though wewaited for something that was to happen, and faced it each in his or herparticular way. I found myself listening for the doctor's step in thehouse, while I felt equally certain that for his part he was wonderingwhat move I should take, and was calmly preparing to meet such a move,whatever it might be.

The long day drew to a close, and presently the harsh bell clangedthrough the house as a summons to dinner. I happened to be in my room atthe time, and as I stepped out of it to go down the stairs, I saw thatthe doctor was waiting at the head of the stairs, and was peering overinto the hall below. He turned his head when he heard my step behindhim, and spoke in a whisper. He spoke as though we were on thefriendliest terms, and almost as if there were some secret understandingbetween us. As I stepped up to him he put his hand on my shoulder, and,laughable as it may seem, I felt a little thrill of gratitude andtenderness for the man run through me—such was the fascination of him.All my suspicions of him seemed to go to the wind.

"I thought I ought to prepare you, John, in case you didn't know," hewhispered. "Two bits of news—Harvey Scoffold has come to dinner, whichmay mean mischief; and Capper's missing."

He imparted that last scrap of information with something so like achuckle that I looked at him quickly, with a new suspicion in my mind.Oddly enough, he must have guessed what I meant, for he shook his headand grinned.

"Oh, nothing to do with me, I assure you," he said. "Only he has goneoff without a word to anyone—and I don't quite like it. Of course, I'mrelieved to know that he has gone; the old fool was like a ghostwandering about the place. But still, I'd like to know where he is."

"I don't see that it matters very much," I replied. "But what makes youthink that Scoffold may mean mischief?"

Still keeping his hand on my shoulder, he turned me about, and began towalk with me down the stairs. "Because it's a long time since he hasvisited me until the other night, and now he comes again. You see, heknows our story, and he's utterly unscrupulous. More than that, he'salways in want of money."

"I'll try what personal violence will do, if he tries any tricks withme," I muttered savagely. And once again I heard the doctor chuckle.

Harvey Scoffold was in the dining-room when we entered, and was talkingto Debora. He was flourishing about in his big, bullying way, with hishands thrust in his pockets, and his feet wide apart. He turned round togreet us at once. I noticed that he looked sharply from the doctor tome, and back again, as though he suspected we had been discussing him;but the next moment he gripped our hands warmly, and began to pour outapologies.

"I hope you don't mind a lonely man coming in, and taking advantage ofyour hospitality in this fashion," he began to the doctor. "But itsuddenly occurred to me that I might run over to see you—and I acted onthe impulse of a moment."

"Delighted, I'm sure," murmured Bardolph Just. Yet he scarcely lookeddelighted. "You know you're always welcome, Harvey."

"Thanks—a thousand thanks!" exclaimed the big man. "You fellowsinterested me so much the other night while we smoked our cigars, that Irather wanted to have that little discussion out with you. You don'tmind?"

We were seated at the table by this time, and I saw the doctor look upquickly at him, with something of a scowl on his face. "I mind verymuch," he said sharply. "Drop it."

A little startled, Harvey Scoffold sat upright, looking at him for amoment; then he nodded slowly. "Very good—then the subject is dropped,"he said. "It would not have been mentioned again by me, but that Ithought I might be of some assistance in the matter."

There was no reply to that, and we presently drifted into other topicsof conversation. But after a time it seemed as though Harvey Scoffold,in sheer venom, must get back to that subject, if only by a side door,for he presently asked a question casually that bore straight upon it.

The doctor slowly finished the wine he was drinking, and set the glassdown, and wiped his lips; then, without looking at his questioner, heanswered—

Two persons at the table echoed that last word together—Harvey Scoffoldand Debora exclaimed, as in one voice, "Gone!"

"Having had enough of our society, the man has taken himself off asmysteriously as he came," went on the doctor calmly. "I never understoodhis coming; still less do I understand his going, although I confessthat the latter movement is the more reasonable. Perhaps he hasremembered where his master is, and has gone to join him."

I stole a glance at the startled face of the girl. She seemed strangelyexcited. Harvey Scoffold, evidently at a loss for conversation, hummedthe mere shred of an air between his lips, and looked at the ceiling.The doctor's face I could not see, because he was behind the lamp. Ilonged for the dinner to pass, because I wanted to get at my man, andfind out just what game was afoot; I was in a mood to choke whatevernews he had out of him, if necessary.

Debora rose at last, and went out of the room. No sooner was the doorclosed than the doctor shifted his chair a little, so as to bring himclear of the lamp, and brought a fist down on the table with a bang.

He glanced from one to the other of us with a look of smiling innocenceon his face. "The move?" he said. "I'm afraid I don't understand. In thename of all that's marvellous, can't a man come to dinner with friendswithout being asked what the move is?"

"You're not the man to do anything without a purpose," cried BardolphJust. "You discovered something the last time you were here, and youevidently want to discover something else. Let me warn you——"

"Stop! stop!" broke in Harvey Scoffold, raising his hands protestingly."I need no threats and no warnings, because there is nothing to threatenabout, nor to warn about. My hands are clean, and I trust they mayremain so. If I referred to the matter at all to-night, it was simplybecause I was naturally very deeply interested in the story I heard, andI wanted to know what further developments there might be, that is all."

"Well, there are no further developments," growled the doctor. "I doubtif there will be any further developments."

"I'm delighted to hear it, and I'm only worried about one thing—that'sthe man Capper. He may make mischief, and he may get himself intotrouble—poor old fellow!—wandering about the world friendless. I'mquite sorry for Capper."

The doctor excused himself almost immediately, and went to his study. Tomy surprise, Scoffold linked his arm in mine, and drew me with himtowards the door of the house. "It's a fine night, and a walk will doyou good," he said. "Walk back with me to my place."

"That's rather too far," I said, for I remembered that he had chambersin the West-end of London.

"I've taken another lodging," he said, without looking at me. "It'sabout a mile from here—or perhaps a little more—in a sort of ruralcottage, where I can smell the roses when I wake in the morning. Cheapand wholesome, and all that sort of thing. Come along."

It was still quite early, and I reflected that no harm was likely tocome to the girl in the short time I should be away. Besides, in afashion, this man drew me to him, by reason of the fact that I wasafraid of him, and of what he might do or say. So we went out of thehouse together, and traversed the dark grounds, and so came arm-in-arminto the open road. Smoking our cigars like two gentlemen at ease, westrolled along under the stars.

I found that he had taken a lodging in a quaint little cottage, with along garden in front of it, in a queer little back street in Highgate—Ishould scarcely have believed that such a place existed in what wasreally London. He fitted his key into the door, and we went into a tinypassage and up some stairs. As we reached the top of the stairs, aclean-looking old woman came out of the room below, and called to him.

"Thank you very much indeed," replied Harvey Scoffold blandly, and thewoman retired.

I found myself wondering a little what sort of servant he had brought tosuch a place as this. I followed him into a little clean sitting-room,with two doors opening out of it into what were evidently bedrooms.

At one side of the room a little table was set out with decanters, andglasses, and syphons: he proceeded to mix for himself and for me.Looking about him in search of something which he could not find, hestruck his hand on a little bell, and I saw one of the doors open, andsomeone come in. I stared with a dropping jaw when I saw that themysterious servant who now came in smiling was Capper!

Capper did not look at me. He received his instructions, and went out ofthe room in search of what was wanted. He came noiselessly back in amoment or two, and during his absence no word was spoken. When the doorwas finally closed again, I spoke in a tone I vainly endeavoured tocontrol.

"Of what?" asked Harvey Scoffold innocently. "Oh! you mean Capper?Purely an act of charity, my dear boy. I wouldn't have wished the oldman to starve."

"You're lying," I said hotly. "You asked all those questions to-nightduring dinner, knowing well that the old man was here. Come, what's themotive?"

He took a long drink and set down his glass with a sigh of satisfaction."The motive is this," he said, with a curious grin stealing over hisfeatures. "While I wish no direct harm to you, my dear boy, I alwayslike to be prepared for anything that may happen. I am in possession ofyour story—I know practically all that I want to know. But in thefulness of time that story must change and move; something's got tohappen to you at some time or other. Now this man Capper—this creatureof the lost memory—may be a mere pawn in the game, or he may besomething more. Who shall say what is locked away in that numbed brainof his?—who shall say when or under what circumstances he may wake up?I shall be curious to know what he will say when he wakes—curious tounderstand what the shock was that drove him into his presentcondition."

"Because I wish to concern myself on your account, my dear fellow," hesaid blandly. "Really you ought to be very much obliged to me. BardolphJust would have sent the man packing, or would have let him drift outinto the world, with the possibility that at some time or other Capperwould wake up and tell his story, and demand sanely to know where hismaster was. Here I have him safely, and if he blurts out the story atall—always supposing that he has one to blurt out—he can only tell itto a friend. Don't be hasty, and don't misjudge people."

Nevertheless, I did not like it. I knew that I was in the power of thisman Scoffold, and I saw, in the line of conduct he was taking, so manysteps towards using me for his own ends. The coming to dinner, thetaking of this lodging so near to where I lived, the securing of the manCapper. I felt that he was drawing a net about me, out of which I mightnot be able to struggle.

We sat talking for a long time, and gradually, with his plausibletongue, he persuaded me that he was my friend, and that he meant to helpme. He suspected the doctor, he told me, and his real motive in comingto that lodging was to be near me in case of necessity.

"Trust me," he said, "and I will stand your friend. More than that, Iwant to show you now that my help shall be of a practical nature. I takeit that you have no money; that you are dependent upon Bardolph Just foreverything?" As I was silent, he nodded, and went on, "Just as Ithought. Well, we'll remedy that; you must let me lend you a littlemoney."

I protested feebly for a time, but he was insistent, and at last Iyielded. I took only a few shillings, because I really needed them, andI did not know at what moment I might be thrown on my own resources, andleft to face the world once more. Then, with something amounting tofriendliness, I left Harvey Scoffold at the little gate in the fence, atthe end of the long garden which led to the cottage, and took my wayback towards the doctor's house.

It was very late, and very dark. I was going along at a swinging pace,when I saw a man rise from beside the road and come hobbling towards me,pleading volubly as he came. Having nothing for beggars, I was pressingon, while he jogged along beside me, about a foot in my rear, stillpleading.

"S'welp me, guv'nor, yer might spare a tanner to 'elp a pore bloke to anight's lodging. I've bin trampin' it all day, an' I've scarcely 'ad amouthful of food; it wouldn't 'urt yer to give me a tanner. I wouldn'tbe like this 'ere if I 'adn't bin unfort'nit; but wot's a pore bloke todo wot's been in jail—an' gits chivied abaht——"

I stopped and wheeled round on him. "You say you've been in prison?" Iasked. "What prison was it?"

"Pent'ouse," he replied; and on that I thrust the money I had ready inmy hand into his, and turned abruptly and made off.

But, as ill-luck would have it, we had been standing squarely under alamp, and as I turned round I saw the man give a start of surprise. Iwas in a mood to run, knowing well that I could out-distance him easily,but as I went striding away, I heard him come pounding after me, andheard him shouting something. The mischief was done; there was nothingfor it but to meet him.

CHAPTER VI.

I BEHAVE DISGRACEFULLY.

The man I now faced on that solitary road had all the appearance of atramp. By the light of the lamp above us I saw that he was clad in adingy old tweed suit, very much frayed at the cuffs and thetrouser-ends, while upon his head was a cap much too large for him, thepeak of which was worn over one ear. And this not from any rakishness,but rather, as it seemed, as a sullen protest against the more orderlyhabits of his fellows. As the game was in his hands for the moment, Ileft the first move to him.

"Well, strike me pink!" he exclaimed under his breath, as he looked meup and down. "Wot's walkin' to-night—live men or spooks? Jail-bird orgent—w'ich is it?"

"Come orf it!" he exclaimed, with a disgusted shrug. "If you don't knownothink abaht me, wot did yer come back for w'en I 'ollered? W'y—weworked in the same gang!"

"I never saw you in my life before," I said, feeling now that all was upwith me.

"Oh, yus, yer did!" he retorted. "You an' me worked in the same gang,an' slep' at night in cells wot was next to each uvver. An' then oneday you cut yer lucky, an' they brought you back a dead 'un. 'Ere, ketch'old of my 'and!"

He stretched out a grimy hand to me as he spoke and quite mechanically Iput my own into it. He gripped it for a moment, and then tossed it fromhim with a laugh.

"You ain't no spook," he said, "an' you ain't no bloomin' twin brother.You won't kid old George Rabbit."

"I don't want to kid anybody," I said. "And I shouldn't think you'd bethe sort to go back on a pal. Why, you're free yourself!"

"Yes, in a proper sort o' way," he retorted. "Got my discharge reg'lar,an' a nice little pat on the back w'en I come out fer bein' a good boy.Not that that does yer much good—'cos 'ere I am starving, w'ile thebloke that comes out through the roof, an' cuts his lucky, dresses likea toff, an' smokes a cigar you could smell a mile orf. As fer me, itdon't 'ardly run to 'alf a hounce an' a inch of clay."

"Well, at any rate you're better off now, and as to freedom—well, wecan cry quits as to that," I said. "Here's some more money for you, allI can spare. I'll wish you good-night."

"'Arf a mo'—'arf a mo'!" he cried, catching at my sleeve and detainingme. "Do yer fink I'm goin' to let yer go like that? W'y, there's lots offings wants explainin'. 'Ow do you come to be walkin' at large like this'ere, after they've tolled the bloomin' bell for yer at Pent'ouse?"

"I can't explain everything to you; it would take too long," I said."Suffice it that I've found friends who have helped me; there wasanother man buried in my place. And now, Mr. George Rabbit," I addedfiercely, "you'll please to understand that Norton Hyde, convict, liesburied in a certain grave you know of, and quite another man has givenyou money to-night. Get that into your thick head, and once more'good-night' to you."

I turned away abruptly to resume my walk. After all, I felt that I waspretty safe; such a shifty, shambling creature as this would only beregarded as a madman if he told any tale about me, especially any talethat would seem as absurd as this one of a man alive that shouldproperly be dead. So I strode away, whistling.

But after a moment or two, glancing furtively over my shoulder, I sawthat he was following, coming along on the other side of the road at asort of hobbling trot that carried him over the ground as fast as mylonger stride. I stopped, and looked back at him; and in a moment hestopped too, and waited.

"You'd better go back," I called across to him threateningly, but he didnot answer.

On I went again, and once more, as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw himcoming along in the same way, like a grim Fate that would not be shakenoff. I had just made up my mind to try conclusions with him in the shapeof personal violence, and had stopped with that purpose in my mind, whena voice broke in out of the darkness that startled me even more than itcould have startled Mr. Rabbit.

It was a constable, standing in the shadow of a doorway, and he hadevidently been watching our approach. I knew by the fact that GeorgeRabbit stood his ground, and even edged a little nearer, that he felt hehad nothing to fear; while, for my part, the mere sight of the uniformedconstable, coming at that juncture, had thrown me into such a sweat ofterror that I could scarcely speak. However, I managed to jerk out somewords which were perhaps the most stupid I could have used, because Idoubt not that had I braved the matter out, George Rabbit would havetaken to his heels, and so have left me in peace. But my words onlystrengthened whatever ties the man meant to bind me with.

"It's all right, constable," I blurted out; "the man's a friend of minein—in reduced circumstances. I'm going to find him a lodging."

So we shuffled on in our original order past the constable, and now Ibegan to feel that I had indeed taken a load upon me that was more thanI could support. By this time George Rabbit had drawn nearer to me, andwas shuffling along contentedly at my side, and with each step I wascoming nearer to the house of Dr. Bardolph Just. In desperation at lastI turned about, and caught him suddenly by the throat and shook him. Iremember now that he tumbled about in my hands as though he had been themere bundle of rags he looked, so that I was a little ashamed of myviolence.

"You dog!" I exclaimed savagely, "what the devil do you mean byfollowing me like this? What do you think you'll gain?"

"I dunno, yet," he said shakily, while his head rolled from side toside. "I can't be much worse off than wot I am, an' I may be a dealbetter."

"I'll give you all I have in my pockets if you'll turn back now, andforget you've ever seen me," I said, releasing him.

He grinned at me. "I've got sich a 'orrible good memory," he said."Besides, I couldn't fergit that face under any circs."

"I'll put it plain, guv'nor," he said, standing in the road before me,and looking at me with his head on one side. "I've bin out o' luck along time; even my pals don't seem to cotton to me some'ow. Nah, you'vegot friends—real tip-toppers, I'll be bound—wot spells it in quidsw'ere I spells it in brown 'uns. Also likewise you don't want it blowedabout that you ain't wot you seem, an' that your proper place fer thenext few years is Pent'ouse, to say nothink of awkward enquiries aboutsomebody else wot was buried by mistake. In case there's any questionsasked, you want a pal wot'll s'welp 'is never that 'e don't know anymore abaht yer than the King on 'is golding throne. An' that'sme—that's George Rabbit!"

So it happened that I had to go on again, with this ragged retainertrailing behind. In that order we came to the gate leading into thegrounds, and I went in, still puzzled to know what to do with the man.By this time I realised that, however much the doctor might resent hisappearance, it was vitally necessary that for his own sake, as well asfor mine, Bardolph Just should assist me in silencing that too freetongue which wagged in the head of George Rabbit. While I was debatingwhat to do with the man, he settled that question for himself.

"It's a nice warm night, guv'nor; if you could give me some place w'ereI could jist lay meself dahn, an' do a snooze, I should be as comfy ascomfy. Only if I could git summink to eat, an' a drop o' drink fust, Ishould be 'appier still."

"You'd better wait here while I go to the house," I replied. "I'll bringyou out something to eat, and I'll show you where to sleep."

I left him standing under the trees, and, greatly perturbed in mind,made my way to the house. I had seen a light in the doctor's study, andI now made straight for it, for this was a matter in which I must haveadvice. Without troubling to knock at the door, I opened it and walkedstraight in.

At first I thought the room was empty, and I was withdrawing again whenI heard voices at the further end of it. The voices proceeded frombehind the screen which hid that part of the room which was the surgery,and it was evident that whoever was there, believing that they had theplace to themselves, were at no pains to mask their voices.

The first voice I heard was one which I recognised easily as that of thewoman Martha Leach. She was evidently greatly excited, and labouringunder strong emotion.

"God help me! why have I clung to you all these years—for you to make amock of me now, and to try to fling me aside? What has my life been thatI should stand calmly by and be slighted, and treated like the dirtunder your feet?"

It was the doctor's voice that broke in, sharply and angrily. "You'veremained with me because it suited your purpose to do so," he said."Years ago I befriended you—you know under what circumstances. You knowhow I imperilled my position to do it; you know that, but for me, youwould have stood in a criminal dock——"

"I know—I know!" she cried. "And after that my life was given to you. Ibecame as something that did not exist for myself, but for another. Andnow—now all that is forgotten."

"It was forgotten years ago, and will never be remembered now," he said."If you are not content with your position here, the remedy lies in yourown hands: you can leave the house, and start somewhere again foryourself."

"You know I can't do that," she said, in a lower tone. "Only you mightbe fair to me; you might let me understand that even if I am nothing,this girl is less. Why should you degrade me before her?"

"Because you were growing insolent," he said. "Leave Miss Matchwick'sname out of the question."

"You tried to kill her," said the woman, sinking her voice yet more. "Isaw that; I know why you opened those doors last night."

There was a long pause, and then I heard the doctor give a quick laugh."Well, doesn't that satisfy you?" he asked.

She seemed to laugh in response. "But you won't have the courage again,"she taunted him.

"Won't I?" I heard him move as though he took a step towards her. "Ishall. And next time it will be something more subtle than any suchbungling business of an accident at night. I gave a certificate once, inthe case of a certain Martha Leach, concerning the death——"

"And I can give one in the case of the death of a certainDebora——What's that?"

I had been so startled that I had stumbled back against the door,closing it noisily. I had the sense now to open it quickly, andapparently to march into the room, cheerily whistling. As I did so thedoctor came quickly round the screen and confronted me.

He drew a breath of relief, and smiled in a ghastly fashion; he seemedstrangely shaken. "You did startle me rather," he said. "What's thematter?"

Now I knew that the woman Leach was still behind the screen, and thatshe must hear every word that I might have to say, and Bardolph Justknew that also. Yet we must play the game of pretences in such a fashionas to make each believe that we were certain we were the only twopersons in the room. More than that, having had a sample of the woman'scuriosity that morning, I was in no mood to talk about myself, or ofthat fellow jail-bird I had met, within her hearing. Yet I could notsuggest talking with the doctor elsewhere, because that must at onceshow him that I knew we had a listener. There was nothing for it but tospeak as vaguely as possible, and to try and get him away from thatroom.

"I've had an adventure to-night, and I rather want to tell you aboutit," I said. "I've met a man, by the merest accident, whom I know."

He glanced quickly at the screen, and then looked again at me. "Won'tyour news keep till the morning?" he asked.

"Well, hardly," I replied, with a laugh. "The friend of whom I speak ishere now."

"Yes," I said. "You see, it happens that he was with me in a certainplace of which you know, and he is rather anxious to renew anacquaintance so auspiciously begun."

The doctor whistled softly, and once more glanced at the screen. "We'llgo downstairs and talk about this," he said. "This room is intolerablyhot."

He opened the door for me to pass out, and as I preceded him murmured anexcuse that he had forgotten something, and went quickly back. I wentdownstairs, and in a moment or two he joined me in the dining-room. Icould scarcely refrain from smiling at my secret knowledge of what hadtaken place in the other room, even though I was agitated by dreadfulfears concerning Debora. I had gleaned but a dim notion of what the pairhad been talking about, but it had been enough to show me that BardolphJust had by no means repented of his purpose. I shuddered at theconnection of Debora's name with death. Moreover, guessing something ofthe character of the woman Leach, and adding to that the remembrance ofwhat she had said to me that morning, I saw that matters were indeeddesperate. And, to add to my perplexities, there was the man GeorgeRabbit, waiting all this time under the trees for my reappearance.

"I met a man to-night, by the greatest ill-fortune, who worked in thesame gang with me in Penthouse prison," I answered him. "A mean dog, whointends to trade on the knowledge, and to get what he can out of me. Itried to shake him off, but he stuck to me like wax."

He paced about the room for a moment or two, with his arms folded, andhis chin in the hollow of one hand. "I don't like the look of things atall; it seems almost as if a net were closing in about us," he said atlast. "Harvey Scoffold was bad enough; now comes someone who, accordingto your description, is scarcely likely to prove as reasonable even asScoffold might be. This dog scents money, I take it?"

"He scents everything that means easy living, and no work, and safety,"I answered.

"Bring him in here; perhaps I may be able to deal with him better thanyou," said the doctor suddenly. "We'll feed him, and we'll see what hehas to say for himself. That's the ticket; bring him in here."

I went out at once into the grounds, and was relieved to see GeorgeRabbit slouch out from the shadows of the trees, and come towards me."Bin a bloomin' long time, you 'ave," he growled resentfully.

"Don't be impudent," I said sharply. "Come into the house, and I'll giveyou a meal."

He drew back and shook his head. "Not me," he replied. "I ain't goin' torun into no traps. 'Ow do I know who's inside, or wot's goin' to 'appento me? I'm safe 'ere, an' 'ere I'll stop."

"What's to harm you?" I asked him. "You've nothing to fear; you'veworked out your time, and are a free man. If anyone has to be afraid ofwhat's going to happen, I think I'm the man."

I shrugged my shoulders and turned away. "Then stop outside; you'll getnothing," was my reply.

As I expected, I had not gone a dozen yards when he came limping afterme. "All right, guv'nor, I'll risk it," he said eagerly, "I'm down on myluck, an' I must have a bite an' a drink. An' after all, w'en yer cometo think of it, I'm top dog, ain't I?"

In my own mind I had to acknowledge as much, though I wondered what hisattitude would be when he came face to face with that stronger man,Bardolph Just. I made my way into the house and into the dining-room,while George Rabbit shuffled along behind me. He had pulled off his cap,and now revealed the thin stubble of hair with which his head wascovered.

As he shuffled in after me into the dining-room he caught sight of thedoctor, standing up with his hands in his pockets, looking at him. Hedrew back instantly, and looked very much as though he meant to make abolt for it, after all.

"You can come in, my friend," said the doctor, regarding him steadily."I know all about you."

I saw that the doctor had been busy in my absence. Apparently he hadvisited the larder, and had brought therefrom the remains of a pie andsome bread and cheese, all of which were set out on a tray, togetherwith a bottle and a glass. Our new guest eyed these things hungrily,forgetful of everything else. At a sign from the doctor he seatedhimself at the table, and fell to like a ravening wolf.

"I thought it better not to disturb the servants," said Bardolph Justto me in a low tone, "so I foraged for myself. He'll be more amenablewhen he's taken the edge off his appetite."

Mr. George Rabbit feeding was not a pretty sight. Making all allowancesfor a tremendous hunger, it was not exactly nice to see him crammingfood into himself with the aid of his knife as well as his fork, andwith an occasional resort to his more primitive fingers; nor did heforget to apply himself to the bottle at intervals. And all the time heeyed us furtively, as though wondering what would happen when his mealwas finished.

But at last even he was satisfied—or perhaps I should put it that thepie had given out. He sat back in his chair, and wiped his lips with thelining of his deplorable cap, and heaved a huge sigh of satisfaction."That's done me a treat, guv'nors both," he murmured hoarsely.

"We're pleased, I'm sure," replied Bardolph Just. "Now we can get tobusiness. It seems that you've got a sort of idea in your head that youare acquainted with this gentleman?" He indicated me as he spoke.

George Rabbit winked impudently. "Never forgot a pal in my life, an' I'ope I never shall," he said. "W'y, me an' Norton 'Ide was unfort'nittogevver, an' now 'e's struck it rich, it ain't likely I wouldn't stickto 'im. See?"

"Now listen to me, my man," said Bardolph Just, coming to the other endof the table, and leaning his hands on it, and staring down at the otherman. "A great many things happen in this world that it's well to knownothing about. You've made a mistake; the gentleman you think is NortonHyde is not Norton Hyde at all. What do you say to that?"

"Wot I say to that is—try summink else," answered Rabbit. "You finkyou'll kid me; you fink you'll git rid of me jist fer a supper? Notmuch. I know a good thing w'en I see it, an' I'm goin' to freeze on toit."

"You will not only have a good supper, but you'll have somewhere tosleep as well," said the doctor. "More than that, you'll have money."

Bardolph Just laid a sovereign on the edge of the table, and pushed itgently towards the man. "You've never seen this gentleman before?" hehinted.

The process was repeated until five sovereigns lay in a little shiningrow along the edge of the table. It was too much for George Rabbit; heleaned forward eagerly. "I don't know the gent from Adam!" he exclaimed.

"Ah!" The doctor laughed, and drew a deep breath, and then suddenlydropped his hand down so that the coins were covered. "But not so fast;there's something else. This money is yours—and you will have ashakedown for the night—only on condition that you stick to what you'vesaid. If you give any trouble, or if you start any ridiculous story suchas you hinted at to-night, I shall find a way of dealing with you. Doyou understand?"

The man looked up at him suspiciously. "You could do a precious lot, Idon't fink!" he exclaimed.

"I'd do this," said the doctor viciously. "I'd hunt you out of thecountry, my friend; I'd look up past records and see what took you intoprison; I'd see if you couldn't be got back there again. How do youthink your word would stand against mine, when it came to acock-and-bull story of the wrong man buried and the right man alive?Think yourself lucky you've been treated as well as you have."

George Rabbit eyed him resentfully, and had a long look at me; then heslowly shuffled to his feet. "Give us the rhino, an' show me w'ere I'mto sleep," he said. "I shall keep me face shut; you needn't be afraid."

The doctor pushed the coins towards him, and he was in the very act ofgathering them up with some deliberateness, when the door was opened,and Martha Leach walked in. What she had expected to find, or whethershe had anticipated discovering the doctor alone, it is impossible tosay; certain it is that she stopped dead, taking in the little picturebefore her, and something of its meaning. George Rabbit swept the coinsinto his hand, and jingled them for a moment, and dropped them into hispocket.

"Nothing," replied the woman, in some dismay. "I only thought—I onlywondered if you wanted anything more to-night. I'm very sorry."

"I want nothing. Go to bed," he said curtly; and with another swiftglance round the room that seemed to embrace us all, she walked out ofthe room and closed the door.

"Now, show this man where he can sleep," he said, turning to me."There's a loft over the stable, with plenty of straw in it; if hedoesn't set fire to himself he'll be comfortable enough. You know whereit is?"

I nodded, and signed to George Rabbit to follow me. He made an elaborateand somewhat ironical bow to the doctor in the doorway of the room. Thedoctor called him back for a moment.

"You can slip away in the morning when you like," he said. "And don'tlet us see your ugly face again."

"Not so much about my face, if yer don't mind," said Mr. Rabbit. "An' Ishan't be at all sorry ter go; I don't 'alf like the company you keep!"

With this doubtful compliment flung at me, Mr. George Rabbit shuffledout of the room, with a parting grin at the doctor. I took him out ofthe house and across the grounds towards the stable, showed him where,by mounting a ladder, he could get to his nest among the straw in theloft. "And don't smoke there," I said, "if only for your own sake."

"I 'aven't got anythink to smoke," he said, a little disgustedly. "Inever thought of it. I 'aven't so much as a match on me."

I knew that the stable was deserted, because I had never seen any horsesthere, and I knew that the doctor kept none. I left George Rabbit in thedark, and retraced my steps to the house. I met the doctor in the hall;he had evidently been waiting for me.

"I don't think he'll trouble us again," I said. "As you suggested, hewon't get anyone to believe his story, even if he tells it, and a greatmany things may happen before he gets rid of his five pounds. Take myword for it, we've seen the last of him."

I went to my room and prepared for bed. At the last moment it occurredto me that I had said nothing to the doctor about Capper, or about thetreachery of Harvey Scoffold, and I decided that that omission wasperhaps, after all, for the best. The business of the man Capper was onewhich concerned Debora, in a sense, and I knew that the doctor was nofriend to Debora. I determined to say nothing at present.

It was a particularly warm night, with a suggestion in the air of acoming storm. I threw back the curtains from my window, and flung thewindow wide, and then, as there was light enough for me to undress bywithout the lamp, I put that out, and sat in the semi-darkness of theroom, smoking. I was thinking of many things while I slipped off myupper garments, and only gradually did it dawn upon me that across thegrounds a light was showing where no light should surely be. Taking mybearings in regard to the position of the house itself, I saw that thatlight would come from the loft above the disused stable.

I cursed George Rabbit and my own folly for trusting him. At the sametime it occurred to me that I did not want to make an enemy of the man,and that I might well let him alone, to take what risks he chose. Thelight was perfectly steady, and there was no suggestion of the flickerof a blaze; I thought it possible that he might have discovered some oldstable lantern, with an end of candle in it, and so have armed himselfagainst the terrors of the darkness. Nevertheless, while I leaned on thewindow-sill and smoked I watched that light.

Presently I saw it move, and then disappear; and while I wascongratulating myself on the fact that the man had probably put out thelight, I saw it appear again near the ground, and this time it wasswinging, as though someone carried it. I drew back a little from thewindow, lest I should be seen, and watched the light.

Whoever carried it was coming towards the house, and as it swung I sawthat it was a lantern, and that it was knocking gently, not against theleg of a man, as I had anticipated, but against the skirts of a woman;so much I made out clearly. When the light was so close as to be almostunder my window I craned forward, and looked, for it had stopped.

The next moment I saw what I wanted to see clearly. The lantern wasraised, and opened; a face was set close to it that the light might beblown out. In the second before the light was puffed out I saw that faceclearly—the face of Martha Leach!

Long after she had gone into the house I stood there puzzling about thematter, wondering what she could have had to say to George Rabbit. Iremembered how she had come into the room when he was taking the moneyfrom the table; I remembered, too, her threat to me, at an earlier time,that she would find out how I came into the house and all about me. AndI knew that, whether she had succeeded or not, she had paid thatnocturnal visit to George Rabbit to find out from him what he knew.

I found myself wondering whether the man had stood firm, or whether hehad been induced to tell the truth. I knew that in the latter case I hadan enemy in the house more powerful than any I had encountered yet; somuch justice at least I did her.

At breakfast the next morning the doctor was in a new mood. Something tomy surprise, I found both him and Debora at the breakfast table when Ientered; I may say that I had been to that loft over the stable, only tofind, as I had hoped, that my bird was flown. Now I murmured a word ofapology as I moved round to my place, and was laughingly answered byBardolph Just.

"You should indeed apologise, my dear John, on such an occasion asthis," he said. "And not to me, but to the lady. Don't you know whatto-day is?"

I think I murmured stupidly that I thought it was Tuesday, but thedoctor caught me up on the word, with another laugh.

"All my good wishes," I said, turning to her at once; and I was rewardedby a quick shy glance and a smile.

"Come, show John what I've given you; let him see it," exclaimed thedoctor. "Or stay—let me put it on!"

I saw then that there was lying beside her plate a little red moroccocase. Without looking at him, she pushed it along the table until hishand could reach it, and let her own arm lie passive there afterwards.He unfastened the case, and displayed a glittering and very beautifulbracelet.

"What do you think of that?" he cried. "Fit to adorn the prettiest andwhitest arm in the world."

It was curious that, while her arm lay along the table, and he took histime in fitting the bracelet round the wrist, she kept her eyes fixed onme, so that her head was averted from him. Even when he had finished thebusiness, and had put her hand to his lips for a moment, she did notlook round; she only withdrew the hand quickly, and put it in her lapunder the table. I saw his face darken at that, and those white dotscome and go in his nostrils.

"A great day, I assure you, John, and we'll make a great day of it.We're having a little dinner-party to-night in honour of the event.Debora doesn't seem to care for pretty things much," he added a littlesourly.

"Thank you; it is very kind of you," she murmured in a constrainedvoice; and put the arm that held the bracelet on the table.

I felt a poor creature, in more senses than one, in being able to giveher nothing, and I felt that I wanted to tell her that. So I contrived ameeting in the grounds, out of sight of the house, and there for amoment I held her hand, and stumbled over what was in my heart.

"You know all the good things I wish you, dear Debora," I said. "I haveno gift for you, because I'm too poor; besides, I didn't know what dayit was. But my heart goes out to you, in loyalty and in service."

"I know—I know," she answered simply. "And that is why I want to saysomething to you—something that you must not laugh at."

"John, I am growing desperately afraid," she said, glancing over hershoulder as she spoke, and shuddering. "It is not that anything freshhas happened; it is only that I feel somehow that something is hangingover me. It is in the air—in the doctor's eyes—in the looks of thewoman Leach; it is like some storm brewing, that must presently sweepdown upon me, and sweep me away. I know it—I know it."

In sheer blind terror at what was in her own thoughts she clung to me,weeping hysterically, and for my own part I was more shaken than I daredto say. For that thought had been in my mind, too; and now instantly Irecalled what I had heard behind the screen in the study the nightbefore. But I would not let her see that I agreed with her; I did mybest to laugh her out of that mood, and to get her into a more cheerfulone.

In part, at least, I succeeded; I assured her over and over again thatno harm should come to her while I was near. Yet even as I said it Irealised my own helplessness, and how difficult a task I had to fightagainst those who were her enemies. For I was convinced that the womanLeach was, if anything, the greater enemy of the two, by reason of thatmad jealousy to which she had already given expression.

In the strangest way it was Martha Leach who precipitated matters thatnight, as I shall endeavour to explain, in the order of the strangeevents as they happened. In the first place, you are to know that HarveyScoffold, having doubtless been duly warned, put in an appearance thatnight, resplendent in evening dress, while the doctor did equal honourto the occasion. I had a tweed suit which the doctor had procured forme; and glad enough I had been, I can assure you, to discard thegarments of the dead man. I thought but little of my dress, however,that night, so intent was I upon watching what was taking place at thetable.

Harvey Scoffold took a great quantity of champagne, and the doctorappeared to do so also; in reality, however, I saw that he drank verylittle. He pressed wine upon Debora again and again, and Martha Leach,who stood behind his chair, was constantly at the girl's elbow with afreshly-opened bottle. Debora did no more than sip the wine, however,despite the doctor's entreaties. In a lull in the conversation, whilethe servants were out of the room and only Martha Leach was presentbehind the doctor's chair, I distinctly saw him noiselessly snap hisfingers, and whisper something to her, and glance towards the girl. Itwas as though there was a secret understanding between the man and thewoman.

Then it was that I came to my resolution; then it was that, to theastonishment of everyone, I began to get noisy. I had all my wits aboutme, for I had drunk but little, and my head was clear; but at my end ofthe table it was impossible for them to tell how much I had reallytaken. I made a pretence of staggering to my feet and proposing a toast,only to be pushed down into my seat again by Harvey Scoffold.

"Be careful," he whispered, with a laugh. "You're not used to this sortof drink; you've taken too much already."

I staggered to my feet again, demanding to know what he meant by it, andasserting my ability, drunkenly, to carry as much as any gentleman. Isaw Debora, with a distressed face, rise from the table and go, anddesperately enough I longed to be able to explain to her what I wasdoing.

I insisted, with threats, upon having more wine, until at last thedoctor and Scoffold got up and made their way upstairs. There, in thestudy, Scoffold said that he had a walk before him, and must be going.

"Well, we'll have Debora in, and you shall wish her many happy returnsof the day once more before you go," said the doctor, as he rang thebell. "John looks as if he were asleep."

I was not asleep by any means; but I was sunk all of a heap in anarm-chair, snoring, and with my eyes apparently shut. It did not escapeme that, on the ringing of that bell, Martha Leach appeared at once,with a bottle and glasses on a tray; and once again I saw that meaningglance flash from her to the doctor, and back again.

Then, very slowly, the door opened, and Debora came in, looking abouther. And I lay in that apparent drunken sleep, with every sense attunedto what was about to happen, and with my eyes watching through theirhalf-closed lids.

CHAPTER VII.

IN THE CAMP OF THE ENEMY.

As I lay huddled up in that deep arm-chair, watching what was going on,I noticed with satisfaction that they took no more notice of me than ifI had really been in the drunken slumber in which they assumed me tobe—which was well for my purpose. So carefully and deliberately had Ithought the matter out, that I had even arranged my position in the roomwith a view to the proving of my suspicions; for I had seen, in thebringing of this quite unnecessary bottle of wine, something about to bedone which should concern the girl. And everything in the attitude ofthe doctor and Martha Leach seemed to scream "Danger" to my ears.

The position I had chosen was such that I could see not only the room inwhich Harvey Scoffold, the doctor, and Debora were standing groupedabout the table, but also behind the screen which hid the many bottlesin that part of the room I have called the surgery. The better to keepup the illusion of my drunkenness, I now began feebly to wave my arms,and to croon a song, as I lay doubled up with my chin sunk on my breast;and I saw the doctor look at me with some contempt, and shrug hisshoulders, and then glance at Martha Leach, who had remained waiting asthough to assist with the bottle and glasses. The glance he gave herspoke as plainly as words could do his satisfaction in mycondition—Debora's protector was inert and useless.

What now happened was this. Harvey Scoffold, who I am convinced hadnothing whatever to do with the business in hand, had engaged the girlin conversation, and had interposed his broad bulk between her and thedoctor and Leach. He had his legs set wide apart, and his hands wereclasped behind his back, and he was talking in a loud tone to Debora,who seemed somewhat mystified by the whole proceedings. And the doctorand Martha Leach had drawn close together, and while the doctor watchedthe broad back of Harvey Scoffold, he covertly whispered to the woman.

"And so, my dear young lady, I am to have the pleasure of toasting youin a special glass before I retire to my humble bachelor quarters—eh?"Harvey Scoffold was saying in his loud tones. "This is a new experiencefor me—bright eyes—sparkling wine—merry hearts!"

"I don't think anyone wants any more wine to-night," I heard Debora sayquickly. "One, at least, of us has had more than enough."

I knew that was meant for me, and my heart was bitter at the thought ofwhat she must be thinking of the man who had called himself her friend.But there was no help for it; I had to play the game out to the end, forher sake.

The doctor had made a quick sign to Leach, and she had gone behind thescreen. From where I lay, with my hands foolishly and feebly waving, andmy lips crooning out the song, I could see her distinctly; and what Isaw caused my heart almost to stand still. She picked up a small phialfrom the corner of a shelf, and slipped it within the folds of herdress; and the next moment was standing beside the doctor again. I sawtheir hands meet, and I saw the phial pass from the one to the other.Then the doctor slipped both hands into his pockets, and moved towardsthe table, which, as it happened, stood between him and Harvey Scoffold.

He kept his eyes fixed on Scoffold and the girl, and very quietly andvery stealthily drew the phial from his pocket, and opened it. Movinghis hand a little to the right, he dropped the contents of the phialinto the glass nearest to me. It was a mere colourless liquid, and wouldnot have been noticed in the bottom of the glass. Then the phial wasslipped back into his pocket, and somewhat boisterously he picked up thebottle and proceeded to open it. Martha Leach, with one long glance atthe girl, passed silently out of the room, and closed the door.

"Come—just one glass of wine before this merry party separates!" criedBardolph Just as the cork popped out. "And we'll have no heel-taps;we'll drain our glasses. I insist!"

Harvey Scoffold turned round and advanced to the table. Bardolph Justhad filled that glass into which he had dropped the contents of thephial, and was filling the second glass. I felt that the time for actionhad arrived. Just as he got to the third glass I staggered to my feet,apparently tripped on the carpet, and went headlong against him and thetable. I heard him splutter out an oath as the table went over and theglasses fell with a crash to the floor.

He swung round upon me menacingly, but before he could do anything I hadwrenched the bottle from his hand, and with a wild laugh had swung itround my head, spilling the wine over me as I did so. Then, with a lastdrunken hiccough, I flung the bottle clean against the window, andheard it crash through, and fall to the ground below.

"To the devil with all drink!" I exclaimed thickly, and dropped backinto my chair again.

For a moment the two men stared blankly at each other, and at the wreckof glass and wine upon the carpet. I was waiting for an attack from thedoctor, and bracing myself for it; but the attack did not come. True, hemade one step towards me, and then drew himself up, and turned with asmile to Debora.

"I'm sorry, my child," he said, in his most winning tones. "I did notmean to have had your pleasure spoilt like this. If you will go to yourroom, I will try to get rid of this fellow. Harvey," he added in a lowertone to Scoffold, "give an eye to him for a moment."

He followed Debora out of the room, closing the door behind him. I haddetermined by this time to show my hand, and Harvey Scoffold gave me theopportunity. He strode across to me, and took me by the shoulder, andshook me violently.

I sprang to my feet, and thrust him aside. I think I never saw a man soastonished in all his life as he was, to see me alert and quick andclear-eyed. "That's all you know about the business," I said. "I'm moresober than either of you. Now, hold your tongue, and wait; I've a wordto say to Bardolph Just, and it won't keep."

Bardolph Just opened the door at that moment, and came in. By that timeI was standing, with my hands in my pockets, watching him, and somethingin my face and in my attitude seemed to give him pause; he stopped justinside the door, staring at me. Harvey Scoffold looked from one to theother of us, as though wondering what game was afoot.

"Now, Dr. Bardolph Just," I said, "I'll trouble you for that phial. It'sin your right-hand trouser pocket. Pass it over."

Instead of complying with that request, he suddenly sucked in a deepbreath, and made a rush at me. But he had mistaken his man; I caught himsquarely on the jaw with my fist, and he went down at my feet. After amoment or two he looked up at me, sitting there foolishly enough on thefloor, and began to tell me what he thought of me.

"You dog! So this is the way you repay my kindness to you, is it?" hemuttered. "You scum of a jail!—this is what I get for befriending you."

"Never mind about me," I retorted, "we'll come to my case presently.Just now I want to talk about Miss Debora Matchwick, and I want to knowexactly what it was you put into the wine destined for her to-night."

"You're mad!" he said, getting slowly to his feet, and looking at me ina frightened way.

"No, I'm not mad; nor am I drunk," I retorted. "You and the woman Leachthought you were safe enough; look at me now, and tell me how much youthink I have seen. Your fine words mean nothing; murder's your game, andyou know it!"

All this time Harvey Scoffold had said nothing; he had merely lookedfrom one to the other of us, with something like a growing alarm in hisface. But now he stepped forward as though he would understand thematter better, or would at least put an end to the scene.

"My dear Just, and you, Norton Hyde, what does all this mean? Can't yoube reasonable, and talk over the matter like gentlemen. What's thistalk of phials and stuff put into wine, and murder, and what not?"

"It's true!" I exclaimed passionately. "This is the second time that manhas tried to kill her, but it shall be the last. The thing is toobare-faced—too outrageous!"

"Well, my fine jail-bird, and what are you going to do?" demanded thedoctor, having now regained the mastery over himself. "Fine words andhigh sentiments; but they never broke any bones yet. Tell me youraccusation clearly, and I shall know how to meet it."

So I gave it them then and there, in chapter and verse; thus lettingHarvey Scoffold know, for the first time, of that business of theeastern corridor, and of the mysterious door that opened only once tothe road to death; moreover, I put it plainly now, that I had seen thewoman Martha Leach take the phial and hand it to him; that I hadpretended drunkenness to lull his suspicions of me, and to be ready whenhe least expected me to upset his plot.

He listened in silence, with his teeth set firmly, and his dark eyesglittering at me; then he nodded slowly, and spoke.

"And the man you accuse is one holding a big position in the world—aman against whom no breath of scandal or suspicion has ever been sentforth," he said. "A man known in many countries of the world—member oflearned societies—a man with a name to conjure with. And what of hisaccuser?"

I knew that he would say that; I knew before-hand the helplessness of myposition. But I was reckless, and I did not care what I said or what Idid.

"Your accuser is a fugitive from the law; a man who lives under anassumed name, and who has taken advantage of the death of an innocentman to begin life again on his own account. You need not remind me ofthat," I went on, "because I admit it all. So far, I am in your power;but my position, as something outside the pale of ordinary society,gives me a greater power than you think. I have everything to win; Ihave nothing to lose. If you had chosen a better man, and had given himthe chance to pry into your secrets, you might have had some hold uponhim. So far as I am concerned, I am utterly reckless, and utterlydetermined to save this girl."

"Brave words—very brave words!" he said, with a sneer. "And how do youpropose to set about it?"

"I intend to get her out of this house. I intend to look after her, if Ihave to steal to do it. I'm an adept at that, you will remember," I saidbitterly, "only this time I shall do it in a good cause. I mean to gether out of this house, and it will go ill with you if you try to preventme."

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders; then he turned to Scoffold. "Ifhe were not so mad he would be amusing, this fellow," he said. ButHarvey Scoffold, somewhat to my surprise, was silent, and did not lookat him. I saw a frown come quickly upon the face of Bardolph Just.

"Nothing—nothing at all!" said Scoffold, in a constrained tone. "I'llsay good-night!" He turned towards the door, and I noticed that his headwas bowed, and that he looked at the carpet as he moved.

Bardolph Just stepped suddenly in front of him. "Look here, you're notgoing like that?" he said. "I'll have some word from you about thisaffair before you leave my house."

Harvey Scoffold looked up quickly. "Then here's the word," he saidaggressively. "I'm rather inclined to believe your friend here, and Idon't like the business. It's a dirty business, and I've seen enough ofit, and of you. Good-night!"

He thrust his way past the other man, and swaggered out of the room. Iwas so surprised and so relieved that I was in a mood to run after him,and hug him, in sheer joy at finding an honest man; but I refrained.

With the closing of the door the doctor stood for a moment, dazed; thenhe opened the door again, and ran out after the other. I pitied him forhis weakness in doing that, because I felt absolutely certain in my ownmind that he would not change Harvey Scoffold's opinion of him. I hadhated Harvey Scoffold pretty cordially on my own account, and by reasonof my misfortunes; now I began to see (as, alas! I had seen so oftenwith other men, and all to my own undoing) that I had cruelly misjudgedhim. However, I had said all I wanted to say to the doctor, and Istarted off to my room.

Now, had I been of a suspicious nature, I must have been disturbed atthe sight of the doctor and Harvey Scoffold engaged in earnest talk atthe end of the corridor which led from the study; but as, the moment Iappeared, Scoffold shook himself angrily free of the other's clutch, andburst out with a shout, I was more than ever convinced that the doctorhad been pleading with him in vain.

"I tell you I'll have nothing to do with you!" exclaimed Scoffold. "Iwish I'd never come into the house. Not another word; I've done withyou!"

I heard the great hall door bang, and I knew that Scoffold was gone; thedoctor, retracing his steps, favoured me with a scowl as he went past,but said never a word; while I, greatly elated at having found a friendin this business, went off to my room, determined that in some vaguefashion I would put matters right in the morning, and defy Bardolph Justto do his worst.

As ill luck would have it, I had forgotten one important point. In theeyes of Debora I had disgraced myself; she had every reason to believeme the drunken madman who had hurled bottles, and broken windows, andupset furniture the night before. I had forgotten that when I enteredthe breakfast-room in the morning, and found her standing by the window.I made my way eagerly to her. To my momentary surprise, she drew back,as though fearing contact with me.

"Mr. New, your memory is a poor one," she said. "I'm afraid you don'tremember what happened last night."

"My dear Debora," I exclaimed eagerly, "I can explain all that—I canshow you——"

I heard the door open behind me, and I stopped. Bardolph Just came intothe room, and stopped on seeing me, looking at me frowningly. It waswith a very virtuous air that he addressed me.

"I'm glad to see you are striving to make your peace with MissMatchwick," he said. "She has been in the habit of dealing withgentlemen, and is not used to such scenes as she witnessed last night."

I gave him a look which showed him I understood his drift; he was silentfor the moment or two that it took us to get to our places at the table.But he evidently felt that he must labour the point, for he was at meagain before ever I had tasted a mouthful.

"I expect you'll have but a poor appetite this morning, John New," hesaid, "therefore I won't trouble you with food. Take Mr. New a cup oftea," he added to Martha Leach, who stood behind him.

I felt that that was rather petty, but somehow worthy of the man. Idrank my tea, and went without the substantial breakfast I should havebeen glad to have eaten. After all, I felt that the game was in myhands, and that I could well afford to let him wreak such pettyvengeance as this upon me. I waited eagerly until the meal was finished;I meant to get speech with the girl, by hook or by crook, at theearliest opportunity. I knew how pressing was the need; I knew howrelentless the man at the head of the table and the apparently docilewoman behind him would be in regard to Debora, and how powerless I, acreature of no real name or position, would be in the matter, unless Icould win the girl to believe me.

I found that a more difficult task even than I had anticipated. Indeed,she avoided me for some time, and when at last I came in touch with her,she drew herself up, with that pretty little lift of her chin I hadnoticed before, and warned me away.

"I want nothing to do with you, Mr. New," she began. But I was not to berepulsed; the matter was much too urgent for that. I walked close up toher, determined that I would have the matter out then and there.

"You must let me explain," I said. "If you don't you will regret it allyour life. You thought I was drunk last night, but I was not."

I waited for some response from her, but she said nothing. I went onagain eagerly.

"I was shamming, and with a purpose. Only by that means—only by makingthe doctor think that I was practically unconscious of what he wasdoing, was I able to observe him clearly. They tried to poison you lastnight."

I suppose she saw the truth in my face; she came suddenly to me, andlaid her hands on my arm, and looked at me with startled eyes. "Topoison me?" she echoed breathlessly.

"Yes, the doctor and Martha Leach. That was why I upset the table andflung the wine away. If you had seen me five minutes after you left theroom, you would have known what my real condition was. The doctor knewit, I can assure you!" I laughed at the recollection.

Debora looked quickly all round about her, with the frightened air ofone who would escape, but sees no way; there was a hunted look in hereyes that appalled me. "What shall I do?" she whispered. "I am morefrightened than I care to say, because I know Dr. Just, and I know howrelentless he can be. Don't you understand, John," she went onpiteously, "how utterly powerless I am? Anything may happen to me inthis dreadful house. I may be killed in any one of a dozen ways; andthis well-known physician and scientist, against whom no word ofsuspicion would be spoken, can give an easy account of my death. What amI to do?"

"I can't for the life of me understand why he should wish to kill you,"I said, "unless it be a mere matter of revenge."

"It isn't that," she answered me slowly. "You see, my poor fathertrusted him so completely, and believed in him so much, that in additionto placing me under his guardianship he put a clause in his will which,in the event of my death, leaves the whole of my property to Dr.Bardolph Just."

Now, for the first time, I saw into the heart of this amazing business;I had probed the motive. He would have secured the girl if he could;failing that, he would secure her property. As he knew that she might,in any ordinary event, pass out of his life, if only by the common gateof marriage, he had determined to get rid of her, and so secure easilywhat was hers. The whole thing was explained now clearly enough.

"What you must do," I answered steadily, wondering a little at my ownbravery in suggesting it, "is to come away from this house with me. Youmust trust me to look after you."

I realise now how mad a proposition that was; but I did not see it inthat light then. I loved her, and I dreaded what might happen to her;more than all else, I saw no greater happiness than in gaining formyself the dear privilege of watching over her. You may imagine what myfeelings were when I heard her glad and eager assent.

"I don't know," I said a little ruefully, "but we can settle that matterafterwards. Far better for us to tramp the roads, side by side, insafety, than for you to remain in this place a day longer. Now listen tome, while I tell you what my plan is."

We were pacing up and down a grass-grown walk while we talked; we werewell out of sight of the house. While I write this I seem to see againher glowing face turned towards mine; to feel the touch of her hands inmine; to hear the quick, eager whisper with which she answered me. I hadcause to remember that afterwards, with bitterness, as you shallpresently hear.

"The chances are that we shall be watched," I began, "because I wasfoolish enough last night to tell the doctor of my intention.Consequently, we must not be seen together during the day; we mustescape under cover of darkness. At ten o'clock to-night walk quietly outof the house, as though you were going for a stroll in the grounds; whenyou come to the gate, go out into the road, where I shall be waiting.After that we must leave the rest to whatever good or ill fortune awaitsus. At some convenient time during the day put whatever you need to takewith you in the old summer-house where we first met; no one visits that,and you can easily take the things from there when you finally leave thehouse."

So it was settled; and for that time I knew that we should both waiteagerly. I laughed a little ruefully to myself at the thought of howlittle money I had in my pocket; but that matter did not greatly troubleme. The future must take care of itself; I liked to think that Deboraand I were two waifs, setting out alone together, to explore a greatunknown world in which as yet we had neither of us had any real chanceof living. I painted a wholly impossible future for us both; for my ownpart, I think I felt capable of conquering worlds, and carving out aposition for myself and for her.

The doctor chose to shut himself up in his study during the day, andalthough Debora and I had lunch and dinner together in the bigdining-room, the woman Martha Leach never left us for a moment, and ourconversation was, perforce, confined to the most trivial things. To anyoutside observer Martha Leach would have appeared to be merely ahighly-trained servant, devoted to us, and anxious to anticipate ourevery want; to my clearer understanding she was a spy, eager to bringabout that which the doctor wished, at all costs. I seemed to see heragain slipping the phial into the doctor's hand.

So closely were we watched during the progress of those meals, and socareful did we deem it necessary to be in our behaviour towards eachother, that I had no opportunity of learning whether Debora hadsucceeded in getting her hat and coat and such things as she might need,into the safe shelter of the summer-house. Therefore I determined, aboutan hour before the time arranged for the girl to meet me, that I wouldsaunter down to the place, to see for myself that all was well. Mypreparations were soon made; I had merely to put my cap in my pocket,and so saunter out of the house, as though about to stroll in thegrounds.

So I came to the summer-house, and, walking quickly into it quiteunsuspiciously, came face to face with Mr. Harvey Scoffold, seated onthe bench, with his head leaning back against the wall, and his eyesclosed. He had a cigar between his lips, at which he was lazily puffing.And beside him on the seat was a little bag, and Debora's hat and coat.

Here, I felt, was an end of the game—so far, at least, as that day wasconcerned. How he had contrived to blunder upon the affair I could nottell; I only knew that the mere presence of those things there at hisside must have given away the little plot at once. While I stared at himhe opened his eyes, and looked at me with a smile.

"Well, dear boy, so here you are at last!" he exclaimed pleasantly."I've been waiting for you."

"My dear boy—my poor, misguided boy!" he said, "why will you alwaysblunder so infernally over your friends and your enemies?"

"I can distinguish pretty well between them, thank you," I assured himwith meaning.

He shook his head again and laughed. "Indeed you can't," he answered."Now, at the present moment, you never needed a friend so much in allyour life; and yet you endeavour to insult one who stands waiting tohelp you. Didn't I show last night what my real feelings were in regardto this business?"

I hesitated, for I remembered how loyal he had seemed to be to Debora,and how much repugnance he had shown to what the doctor had endeavouredto do. I suppose now he saw his opportunity, for he began to push thematter home.

"My dear boy," he said eagerly, leaning forward towards me, "whatearthly chance will you have of helping this girl, if you set out on awild goose-chase through the world with her, without enough to pay evenfor a night's lodging? Think for one moment: she has been used to everycomfort, she is a lady in every sense of the word."

"Nevertheless, I mean to do it," I said doggedly. "Besides, how comes itthat you know what we're going to do?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. "My dear boy, the thing is sotransparent! I know enough of you to guess that you wouldn't allow herto stay in this place; and then, by the merest chance, I saw hercreeping through the grounds this evening, and making for thissummer-house. Later I discovered these things which she had left.There's the whole matter in a nutshell."

"And I suppose you think you'll prevent our going—or warn the doctor?"I said, in a threatening tone.

He threw up his hands with a gesture of despair, and seemed to appeal tothe very trees and the stars against me. "Look at this fellow!" heexclaimed. "What is one to make of him? As if I had suggested trying tostop you—or suggested warning Bardolph Just! On the contrary, I swearto you that I am here to help you."

He seemed so honest about the matter, and had taken my suspicions sogood-temperedly, that I was disarmed. "Tell me," I said, "what do youmean to do? How will you help us?"

He sprang to his feet, and spread out his arms; and then suddenlytouched me lightly with his fingers on each shoulder—almost as thoughhe would embrace me. "My dear boy," he said in his eager fashion, "I amall for romance. When I see a boy and a girl taking their way out on tothe great highway of life, ready to walk hand in hand together to thevery end of the road, my heart leaps out towards them. Consequently,when I guessed your secret, I asked myself what I could do to help you.And I have found a way."

"Our common foe is Dr. Bardolph Just," he said, lowering his voice, andlooking about him as though he feared that even in that secluded spot wemight be overheard. "Now, Dr. Bardolph Just does not know that I havechanged my abode; he is totally unaware of the fact that I reside withina mile or so of this house. Consequently, what is to prevent yourbringing the young lady to that little cottage of which we both know,and where there is a decent woman to look after her? Let the future takecare of itself, if you like—but be careful of the present. I willprovide you with what money is necessary, so that while the doctor iseating his heart out with rage, and is moving heaven and earth todiscover the runaways, you will be lying snug at my place, making yourarrangements for the time to come."

I began to think that it was a good enough plan. I would, of course,infinitely have preferred to start off with Debora on some journey ofwhich we did not even know the end; but that was, perhaps, a foolishidea, and not one to be encouraged with a young girl to be considered.More than that, as Harvey Scoffold had blundered upon the story, it wasquite impossible to keep him out of it; and I knew that he was a man ofthat temper that, if I curtly refused his offer, he might well betakehimself to Bardolph Just at once, and let him into the whole secret.There were many reasons urging me to close with his offer, and, althoughwith reluctance, I did so.

"Very well, then; I accept," I said. "Only, heaven help you if you playany tricks with us!"

He shrugged his shoulders, and laughed again. "I hope some day to beable to convince you that I am not a scoundrel," he replied lightly.

That Debora might not be disconcerted by coming upon the manunexpectedly, I persuaded him to walk on a little towards his house. Iwould meet the girl, and follow him. To that he consented, and togetherwe walked to the gate leading into the road. Mindful of what I hadpromised Debora, I stepped out into the road myself, and watched the manas he strode rapidly away. Then I set myself to wait, with what patienceI could muster, for the coming of Debora.

It was a fine night, and as I leaned against the wall, waiting, I hearda clock in the distance chime the hour of ten. Then I heard the click ofthe gate, and my heart gave a little leap as I thought of who wascoming. Imagine my surprise when, on turning my head, I saw a manadvancing towards me through the shadows. I was turning abruptly away,not desiring to be seen by anyone then, when the man quickened his stepsand came after me.

The man was George Rabbit, and he was in altogether different trim fromanything I had seen before. The shabby clothes were replaced by a suitof tweeds of a rather smart cut, and a billycock hat of a sporting typewas perched on his head. He nodded impudently, and held out his hand. Ofthat I took no notice.

"Too proud to shake 'ands with a pal—eh?" he said. "There's some peoplewants to be learnt a lesson, it seems to me. I've jist bin up to the'ouse, and 'is nibs there says 'e don't know me, an' don't want anythinkto do wiv me. An' I on'y wanted to touch 'im fer a quid."

"You've had all the money you'll get out of either of us," I saidsternly. "And you'd better go away now; I don't want to talk to you."

"That's w'ere we differ, guv'nor," said Mr. Rabbit impudently. "I'mgoin' to stick to you fer a bit, an' see if I can't make summink out ofyer."

I wondered what I was to do. I knew that in another moment that gatemight open again, and Debora come out; and I was quite certain thatGeorge Rabbit would be only too eager to follow us, and to make capitalout of our adventure. I thought I would try something more than threats;so I advanced upon the man, and suddenly took him by the throat, andbanged his head lustily with the flat of my hand.

"When I tell you I want you to go away I mean it," I said between myteeth, as I towered over him in my wrath. "If you don't get out of thisI'll kick you into the middle of next week."

He wriggled out of my grasp, and picked up his billycock hat, which hadfallen into the road. He gave me an ugly scowl as he backed away.

"I'll knife yer one of these days," he whimpered—"see if I don't. Youknow wot I could say if I'd a mind to say it—an' I——"

The door in the wall had clicked again, and I saw Debora coming swiftlytowards me. The voice of George Rabbit died away as he gazed on this newapparition; he stood still at the other side of the road. I took the bagfrom Debora's hand, and turned, and hurried away with her without aword; but I had an uneasy feeling that Rabbit was following. I stoppedonce in the darkness, and looked back; and I was certain that hestopped, too, and waited. I did not wish to alarm the girl by callingout to him; I could only hope that we might manage to elude him beforecoming to Harvey Scoffold's cottage.

On the way I told Debora exactly what had happened, and explained to herthat this seemed the best and the only thing for us to do. She was alittle disconcerted, and urged me to remember that Harvey Scoffold was apersonal friend of the doctor; but on that point I endeavoured tore-assure her, by telling her of the scene in the study the nightbefore, and of the attitude Scoffold had taken. Looking back on thematter now, I wish with all my heart that I had adopted her suggestion,and had flung caution to the winds, and had gone off with her in somenew direction; how much sorrow and misery might have been spared us ifwe had done that you shall know hereafter.

We came at last to the cottage where Harvey Scoffold was lodging, andthere I found the man awaiting us. He was courtesy itself to Debora; puta finger on his lips mysteriously when she would have thanked him; andintroduced us both to the old woman who kept the house. I was beginningto think that all was very right, when I heard a knock at the door ofthe cottage, and the old woman, who had been preparing supper, came outof some room at the back to answer the summons. And then for the firsttime I remembered George Rabbit.

It was his voice, sure enough; he wanted to speak to "the gent 'oo'djist gorn in." I gave a glance at Harvey Scoffold, and went out into thepassage to speak to the man; for I felt that I was in a tight place.

"Nah then," said George Rabbit loudly—"you an' me 'as got to come tosome sort of unnerstandin'. I'm a honest man, I am, wot's worked out 'istime, and done 'is little bit right an' proper; I ain't no bloomingjail-bird, wot's cut 'is lucky afore 'is time."

I clapped a hand over his mouth; but it was too late. Even as Istruggled with him, I saw the door of the room in which Harvey Scoffoldand the girl were slowly opening, and the face of Harvey Scoffold lookedout. George Rabbit slipped out of my grasp like an eel, and rushed tothe door of the room, and forced his way in. He was absolutely mad withrage, and not responsible for anything he said.

"What's to do here—what's to do?" asked Scoffold mildly; yet I thoughthe watched Debora as he asked the question.

"Ask that man 'is name!" cried Rabbit, pointing fiercely to me. "Ask 'im'is name—an' w'ere 'e come from—an' wot jail 'e broke out of!"

I stood still, watching Debora; my fate lay in her hands. Very slowlyshe came across to me, and looked into my face, and asked me a question.

I glanced appealingly at Harvey Scoffold; and in a moment I read in hisgrimly set lips that he meant that the exposure should be carriedthrough. I knew that if I did not tell the tale he would, in some moregarbled fashion. Therefore when I spoke it was to him.

So I waited in a horrible silence, while the two men went out of theroom. Then when the door was closed I turned to the girl, who was moreto me than life itself; and my heart sank at the thought of what I hadto say to her.

CHAPTER VIII.

MISERY'S BEDFELLOW.

For what seemed a long time, but was after all but a matter of moments,we stood in that room, facing each other; and perhaps the bitterestthing to me then, with the knowledge in my mind of what I had to say,was that when at last she broke silence she should speak to me withtenderness.

"John, dear," she said softly, "there is some mystery here that I don'tunderstand; I want to know all about it—all about you. I trust you as Itrust no other man on earth; there can be nothing you are afraid to tellme."

Having struck me that unconscious blow, she sat down calmly, and smiledat me, and waited; I thought that never had poor prisoner trembledbefore his judge as I trembled then.

"I want you to throw your mind back," I began at last, seeing that Imust get the business over, "to the night when last you saw GregoryPennington."

She started, and looked at me more keenly; leaned forward over the tablebeside her, and kept her eyes fixed on my face.

"I remember the evening well," she said. "We stood together in thegrounds of the house; he left me to go into that house to see myguardian. And I have never seen him since."

"When you met Gregory Pennington that night," I went on, "I lay in thedarkness quite near to you, a forlorn and hunted wretch, clad in a dresssuch as you have never seen—the dress of a convict."

She got up quickly from her chair, and retreated from me; yet still shekept her eyes fixed on my face. And now I began to see that my cause washopeless.

"I had broken out of my prison that day, a prison far away in thecountry. I was hunted, and hopeless, and wretched; the hand of every manwas against me. I had taken money that did not belong to me, and I hadreceived a savage sentence of ten years' imprisonment. I had served butone, when the life and the manhood in me cried aloud for liberty; and onthat night when you met Pennington in the garden I was free."

"That place was as good as any other, if it could provide me with that Iwanted, food and clothing," I answered her. "I saw young Pennington gointo the house; a little later I followed him. Only, as you willunderstand, I could not enter by the door; I broke into the place likethe thief I was."

"I understand that that was necessary," she said, nodding slowly. "I donot judge you for that."

"When I got into the house," I went on hurriedly, "I found that atragedy had taken place. I implore you to believe that I am telling thetruth and nothing but the truth; I could not lie to you. Your friendGregory Pennington had met with an accident."

She read what was in my face; she drew a deep breath, and caught at theback of the chair by which she stood. "You mean that he was dead?" shewhispered.

I nodded. "For what reason I know not, although I can guess; butGregory Pennington had hanged himself."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and I thought as she swayed a littlethat she was going to faint. I had taken a step towards her when sheopened her eyes suddenly, and I saw a great anger and indignationblazing in them. "It's a lie!" she exclaimed, "he was the last person todo such a thing. He was the brightest, and best, and sweetest lad thatever loved a girl, and loved her hopelessly."

"There you have it," I suggested. "Had you not told him that night thatyou could not love him?"

"Yes, but that would not have sent him to his death," she retorted. "Butgo on; I want to know what was done, and why I never heard about thisuntil now."

"I want you to understand, if you can, two things," I went on steadily."First, there was a dead man and a living one; and the living one was ahunted fugitive. Second, there was, in a slight degree, a faintresemblance between the dead man and the living, in colouring, andheight, and general appearance."

She looked at me for a moment or two in silence; then she nodded herhead. "Yes, I see that now," she answered, "although I never noticed itbefore."

"While I was in the room with the dead man, Dr. Just put in anappearance. To be brief, he wanted to keep the matter from you, becausehe knew the boy had been your friend; he took pity on me, and wanted tosave me. He knew that they were hunting for a convict, who might perhapsbe thought to be something like the dead man; at his suggestion Ichanged clothes with Gregory Pennington, and started under anothername."

I turned away from her then; I dared not look at her. For a time therewas a dead silence in the room, broken only by the curious slow tickingof an old eight-day clock in the corner. I remember that I found myselfmechanically counting the strokes while I waited for her to speak.

When at last I could bear the tension no longer I looked round at her.She stood there, frozen, as it were, in the attitude in which I had seenher, looking at me with a face of horror. Then at last, in a sort ofbroken whisper, she got out a sentence or two.

"You—you changed clothes? Then he—he became the convict—dead?What—what became of him?"

She stared at me for a moment as though not understanding; seemed tomurmur the words under her breath. Then she clapped her hands suddenlyover her face.

I began to murmur excuses and pleadings. "The fault was not mine, theboy was dead, and no further harm could come to him. I wanted to live—Iwas so young myself, and I wanted to begin life again. I neverthought——"

She dropped her hands, and faced me boldly; I saw the tears swimming inher eyes. "You never thought!" she cried. "You never thought of what itmeant for him, with no sin upon him, to lie in a felon's grave! Younever thought that there was anyone on earth might miss him, and sorrowfor him, and long for him! You wanted to live—you, that had brokenprison—you, a common thief! You coward!"

I said no more; it seemed almost as if the solid earth was slipping awayfrom under my feet. I cared nothing for what might happen to me; I knewthat I had lost her, and that I should never touch her hand again infriendship. I stood there, waiting, as though for the sentence she mustpronounce.

"I never want to see your face again," she said at last, in a low voice."I do not know yet what I shall do; I have not had time to think. But Iwant you to go away, to leave me; I have done with you."

She laughed contemptuously. "Then I won't be saved by you!" sheexclaimed. "There are honest men in the world; I would not trust you,nor appeal to you, if I had no other friend on earth."

"That man who burst into the house just now, he seemed to know you," shesaid, after a moment's pause. "Who is he?"

"Then go to him," she said. "Are you so dense that you don't understandwhat I think of you, you thing without a name! Will nothing move you?"

There was a light cane lying on the table with Harvey Scoffold's hat andgloves. In a very fury of passion she suddenly dropped her hand upon it,and caught it up. I know that my face turned darkly red as I saw whather intention was; but I did not flinch. She struck me full across theface with it, crying as she did so, "Now go!" dropped the cane, andburst into tears at the same moment. I could bear no more; I turnedabout, and walked out of the room, and out of the house. I did not seemto remember anything until I found myself walking at a great rate underthe stars, down towards London.

My feelings then I will not attempt to describe. I seemed to be moreutterly lost than ever; the sorry comedy was played out, and I walkedutterly friendless and alone, caring nothing what became of me. If Iremembered that Debora stood in peril of her life, and had but smallchance of escape from some horrible death, I tried to thrust thatthought away from me; for the blow she had struck me seemed to have cutdeep into my soul. Of all the homeless wretches under the stars thatnight, surely I was the one most to be pitied!

I found myself after a time on Hampstead Heath, and lay down there in aquiet spot under the trees, and stared up at the stars, wondering alittle, perhaps, why Fate had dealt so hardly with me, and had nevergiven me a real chance. I remembered my unhappy boyhood, and my longyears of drudgery in my uncle's house; I remembered with bitterness thatnow to-night I was a creature with no name and no place in the world,with no hopes and no ambitions. Tears of self-pity sprung to my eyes asI lay there in the darkness, wondering what the day was to bring me.

I had a few shillings in my pocket, and when I knew the dawn was comingI started off down into London, in the hope to lose myself and mymiseries in the crowded streets. But there I found that apparentlyeveryone had some business to be engaged upon; everyone was hurryinghither and thither, far too busy to take note of me or of my downcastface. The mere instinct to live kept me clear of the traffic, or I musthave been run over a hundred times in the day, so little did I troublewhere I walked, or what became of me. When my body craved for food Iwent into an eating-house, and sat shoulder to shoulder with other men,who little suspected who I was, or what was my strange story. But theneveryone against whom one rubs shoulders in a great city must have somestrange story of their own to tell, if they cared to say what it was.

I spent the long day in the streets; but at night a curious fascinationdrew me across Hampstead Heath, and so in the direction of the cottagein which Harvey Scoffold lived. I had no hope of seeing the girl; I onlyfelt it would be some poor satisfaction to me to see the house in whichshe was; perhaps my very presence there might serve in some vague way toshield her from harm; for by this time I had come to the conclusion thatScoffold was as much her enemy and mine as anyone else by whom she wassurrounded.

I wandered about unhappily there for more than an hour; I was justturning away, when the old woman I had seen on the previous night cameout of the door of the cottage, and advanced down the garden to thelittle gate in the fence. I think a cat must have got astray; for shecalled to some animal fretfully more than once. She was just turningaway again, when I ventured to step up to the gate.

She looked at me curiously; looked especially, I thought, at the longlivid weal across my face. "Ah! I remember you now, sir," she said; "Ididn't recognise you for a moment. But, bless you, sir, they've all goneaway."

"Yes, sir. Mr. Scoffold and the young lady went off early this morning,sir; Mr. Scoffold said that letters were to be addressed to him at thehouse of Dr. Bardolph Just. I've got the address inside, sir, if youshould want it."

I told her I did not want it, and I turned away abruptly. I could notunderstand the position at all; I wondered how Harvey Scoffold hadpersuaded her to go back to that house, and to the man she so muchdreaded. I saw how badly I had blundered in the matter, and how I haddone the very thing I had striven not to do. She would trust HarveyScoffold; she would believe in his honesty, as I had believed in it; andI was convinced now that he was working hand in glove with BardolphJust. I stood out there in the darkness, cursing myself, and the world,and everyone, with the solitary exception of Debora Matchwick.

On one point I was resolute; I would go on to the house of the doctor,and would be near at hand in case the girl wanted me. It was a mad idea,and I now recognise it as such; but at the time it seemed that I mightbe able to do some good. I set off at once, tired out as I was, forBardolph Just's house.

It was not yet late, and the house was still lighted up when at last Icame to it. I opened the gate in the wall noiselessly, and went in;crept forward among the trees, until I was quite near to the house. Ithink I had a sort of vague idea that I would get in somehow, andconfront the doctor; for, after all, nothing much worse could happen tome than had already befallen me. While I waited irresolutely in thegrounds, a door opened at one side of the house, letting out a littleflood of light for a moment; then the door was closed again, and I saw afigure coming swiftly towards me through the trees. I drew back behindone of the trees, and watched; presently the figure passed so close tome, going steadily in the direction of the gate, that I could see theface clearly. It was Martha Leach, habited for a journey.

There was such a grim, set purpose in the face that, after she had gonea yard or two, I turned on an instinct and followed her. I heard thelatch of the gate click, as she went out, closing the gate after her;unfortunately it clicked again a moment or two later, when I in turnpassed out in her wake. I flattened myself against the wall, becauseMartha Leach had stopped in the road, and had looked back. Fortunatelyfor me she did not return; after a momentary pause she went on againrapidly, taking a northern direction.

Now, by all the laws of the game I ought to have returned to the houseto keep my vigil there; for what earthly purpose could I hope to servein chasing this woman about the northern suburbs of London, at somethingnear to nine o'clock on a summer's evening? But I felt impelled to go onafter her; and my heart sank a little when presently I saw her hail afour-wheeled cab, and range herself up beside the front wheel, to drivea bargain with the cabman. Without her knowledge I had come to the backof the cab, and could hear distinctly what she said.

I felt at first that I was dreaming when I heard her asking the man ifhe could drive her to an address near Barnet; and that address was thehouse of my Uncle Zabdiel! After some demur the man agreed; and thewoman got inside, and the cab started. And now I was determined that Iwould follow this thing out to the bitter end; for I began to understandvaguely what her mission was to my uncle.

As I ran behind the cab, now and then resting myself by perchingperilously on the springs, I had time to think of the events that hadfollowed the coming of George Rabbit to the doctor's house, and hisdiscovery of me. I remembered that light I had seen in the loft; Iremembered how Martha Leach had come from that loft, carrying a lantern;I remembered how she had threatened to find out who I was, and fromwhence I came. And I knew now with certainty that she was on her way tomy uncle, with the purpose of letting him know the exact state ofaffairs.

I own that I was puzzled to know why she should be concerning herself inthe matter at all. That she hated Debora I knew, and I could only judgethat she felt I might be dangerous, and had best be got rid of in somefashion or other. The newspaper reports of my trial and sentence hadmade my life, of necessity, common property; she would be able easily todiscover the address of Uncle Zabdiel. That she was working, as shebelieved, in the interests of the doctor I could well understand; butwhether by his inspiration or not it was impossible for me to know.

The cab stopped at last outside that grim old house I remembered sowell, that house from which I had been taken on my uncle's accusation.By that time, of course, I was some yards away from it, watching fromthe shelter of a doorway; but I heard the bell peal in the great, hollowold place, and presently saw the gate open, and Martha Leach, after someparley, pass in. Then the gate was closed again, and I was left outside,to conjecture for myself what was happening within.

I determined at last that I would get into the place myself; it might bepossible for me to forestall Martha Leach, and take some of the wind outof her sails. Moreover, the prospect of appearing before my uncle in aghostly character rather appealed to me than not; he had given me one ortwo bad shocks in my life, and I might return the compliment. For, ofcourse, I was well aware that he must long since have believed that Iwas dead and buried, as had been reported. I went near to the house, andtried the gate; found, somewhat to my relief, that it was not fastened.I slipped in, and closed the gate after me, and found myself standing inthe narrow garden that surrounded the house.

Strange memories came flocking back to me as I stood there looking up atthe dark house. How much had I not suffered in this place, in whatterror of the darkness I had lain, night after night, as a boy, dreadingto hear the footsteps of Uncle Zabdiel, and yet feeling some relief athearing them in that grim and silent place! I thought then, as I stoodthere, how absolutely alone I was in the great world—how shut out fromeverything my strength and manhood seemed to have a right to demand. Andwith that thought came a recklessness upon me, greater even than I hadfelt before, almost, indeed, a feeling of devilry.

I had been questioning myself as to my motive in coming there at all;now I seemed to see it clearly. The woman now in the house was doubtlessgiving my uncle chapter and verse concerning my strange coming to life;left in her hands, I was as good as done for already. I felt sure thatthe first thought in Uncle Zabdiel's mind, if he realised the truth ofwhat she said, would be one of deadly fear for his own safety; for hebelieved me reckless and steeped in wickedness, and he knew that I hadno reason to love him. He would seek protection; and in seeking it wouldgive me up to those who had the right to hold me.

Nor was this all. In giving me up he must perforce open a certain gravewherein lay poor Gregory Pennington, and show what that grave contained.He must drag that miserable story into the light, and must drag Deborainto the light with it. I could see Uncle Zabdiel, in imagination,rubbing his hands, and telling the whole thing glibly, and making muchof it; and I determined that Uncle Zabdiel's mouth must be closed.

If in no other fashion, then I felt that I must silence him by threats.I was an outlaw, fighting a lone hand in a losing cause; he would knowat least that I was scarcely likely to be over-scrupulous in my dealingwith him or anyone else. But the first thing to do was to get into thehouse.

Now, I knew the place well, of course, and, moreover, it will beremembered that in those night excursions of mine which had led to somuch disaster I had been in the habit of coming and going without hisknowledge. It seems to me that I was born to make use more of windowsthan of doors; but then, as you will have gathered by this time, I wasnever one for ceremony. On this occasion I recalled old times, and mademy way to a certain window, out of which and into which I had crept manya night and many a morning. It was a window at the end of a passagewhich led to my own old room, in which for so many years I had slept. Igot in in safety, and crept along the passage; and then, out of sheercuriosity, opened the door of that old room, and went in.

And then, in a moment, I was grappling in the semi-darkness with whatseemed to be a tall man, who was buffeting me in the wildest fashionwith his fists, and shrieking the very house down with a high, raucousvoice. Indeed, he let off a succession of yells, in which the only wordsI could discover were, "Murder!" "Fire!" "Thieves!" and other likethings. And all the while I fought for his mouth with my hands in thedarkness, and threatened all manner of horrible things if he would notbe silent.

At last I overmastered him, and got him on his back on the floor, andknelt upon him there, and glared down into his eyes, which I could seedimly by the light which came through the uncurtained window.

"Now, then," I panted, "if you want to live, be quiet. I can hearsomeone coming. If you say a word about me, I'll blow your brains out.I'm armed, and I'm desperate."

He assured me earnestly, as well as he could by reason of my weight uponhim, that he would say not a word about me; and as I heard the stepscoming nearer, I made a dart for the head of the old-fashioned bedstead,and slipped behind the curtains there. The next moment the room wasfilled with light, and I heard Uncle Zabdiel's voice.

"What's the matter? What's the matter? What the devil are you making allthat bother about? I thought someone was murdering you."

Peering through a rent in the curtain, I could see that the man I hadgrappled with, and who now faced my uncle tremblingly, was a tall,ungainly youth, so thin and weedy-looking that I wondered he hadresisted me so long. He was clad only in a long white night-shirt, whichhung upon him as though he had been mere skin and bone; he had a weak,foolish face, and rather long, fair hair. He stood trembling, and sayingnothing, and he was shaking from head to foot.

"Can't you speak?" snapped Uncle Zabdiel (and how well I rememberedthose tones!).

"I never knew you have that before," was my uncle's comment. "Get tobed, and let's hear no more of you. What did you have for supper?"

"Then it couldn't have been that," retorted Uncle Zabdiel. "Come, let'ssee you get into bed."

Now, the unfortunate fellow knew that a desperate ruffian was concealedbehind the curtains of the bedstead; yet his dread of that ruffian wasso great that he dared not cry out the truth. More than that, I saw thathe dared not disobey my uncle; and between the two of us he was in anice quandary. At last, however, with a sort of groan he made a leap atthe bed, and dived in under the bedclothes and pulled them over hishead. Without a word, Uncle Zabdiel walked out of the room, and closedthe door, leaving us both in the dark. And for quite a long minute therewas no sound in the room.

I began to feel sorry for the youth in the bed, because I knew what hemust be suffering. I moved to come out into the room, and he gave a sortof muffled shriek and dived deeper under the clothes. I stood besidehim, and I began to talk to him as gently as I could.

"Now, look here," I whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you if you keepquiet. Come out from under those clothes, and let me have a look at you,and tell me who you are."

Very slowly he came out from his refuge, and sat up in bed, and lookedat me fearfully; and very ghostly he looked, with his fair hair, and hiswhite face, and his white garment, against the dark hangings of the bed.

"Well, you're not a very respectful clerk, at all events," I retortedwith a laugh, as I seated myself on the side of the bed. "And you don'tlook a very happy one."

"This ain't exactly a house to be happy in," he said. "It'sgrind—grind—grind—from morning till night, and nothing much toeat—and that not very good. And I'm growing so fast that I seem to needa lot more than what he does."

"I know," I responded solemnly. "I've been through it all myself. I wasonce old Zabdiel Blowfield's clerk, and I also had the misfortune to behis nephew."

"Oh, Lord!" The boy stared at me as though his eyes would drop out ofhis head. "Are you the chap that stole the money, and got chokey forit?"

I nodded. "I'm that desperate villain," I said, "and I've broken out of'chokey,' as you call it, and have come back to revisit the glimpses ofthe moon. Therefore you see how necessary it was that Uncle Zabdielshould not see me. Do you tumble to that?"

He looked me up and down wonderingly, much as though I had been abouteight feet high. "Old Blowfield told me about you when I first came," hesaid. "He said it would be a warning to me not to do likewise. But heput in a bit too much; he said that you were dead."

"He wanted to make the warning more awful," I suggested, for I did notfeel called upon to give him an explanation concerning that mostmysterious matter. "And don't think," I added, "that I am in any senseof the word a hero, or that I am anything wonderful. At the present timeI've scarcely a coin in my pocket, and I don't know where I'm to sleepto-night. It's no fun doing deeds of darkness, and breaking prison, andall that sort of thing, I can assure you."

The youth shook his head dismally. "I ain't so sure of that," he said."At any rate, I should think it would be better than the sort of life Ilead. There's something dashing about you—but look at me!"

He spread out his thin arms as he spoke, and looked at me with hispathetic head on one side. I began to hate my uncle with fresh vigour,and to wonder when some long-sleeping justice would overtake him. For Isaw that this boy was not made of the stuff that I had been made of;this was a mere drudge, who would go on being a drudge to the end of hisdays.

"Well, Mr. Andrew Ferkoe, and how did you come to drop into this place?"I asked.

"My father owed old Blowfield a lot of money; and my father died," hesaid slowly.

"And you were taken in exchange for the debt," I said. "I think Iunderstand. Well, don't be downhearted about it. By the way, are youhungry?"

I started for the door, with the full determination to raid the larder;but he called after me in a frightened voice—

"Come back, come back!" I turned about, and looked at him. "He'll killme if I take anything that doesn't belong to me, or have me locked up."

"Oh, he'll put it down to me," I assured the boy. "I'm going tointerview him in the morning, and I'll see that you don't get intotrouble."

I left him sitting up in bed, and I went out into the house, knowing myway perfectly, in search of food. I knew that in that meagre household Imight find nothing at all, or at all events nothing worth having; butstill, I meant to get something, if possible. I got down into thebasement, and found the larder, and, to my surprise, found it betterstocked than I could have hoped. I loaded my arms with good things, andstarted to make my way back to my old room.

And then it was that I saw Martha Leach and my uncle. The door of theroom in which my uncle used always to work was opened, and the womancame out first. I was below, in an angle of the stairs leading to thebasement, and I wondered what would have happened if they had known thatI was there. Uncle Zabdiel, looking not a day older than when he hadspoken to me in the court after my sentence, followed the woman out,bearing a candle in his hand. He had on an ancient dressing-gown, andthe black skull cap in which I think he must always haveslept—certainly I never saw him without it.

"I'm much obliged to you, my good woman," he said in a low voice—"muchobliged to you, indeed, for your warning. It's upset me, I can assureyou, to hear that the fellow's alive; but he shall be hunted down, andgiven back to the law."

I set my teeth as I listened, and I felt that I might be able topersuade Uncle Zabdiel to a different purpose.

"The difficulty will be to get hold of him," said Martha Leach. "I onlyheard the real story, as I have told you, from the lips of hisfellow-prisoner—the man they call George Rabbit."

"Then the best thing you can do," said Uncle Zabdiel, touching her for amoment on the arm, "the wisest thing you can do, is to get hold ofGeorge Rabbit and send him to me. Tell him I'll pay him well; it'll be aquestion of 'set a thief to catch a thief.' He'll track the dog down.Tell him I'll pay him liberally—I'm known as a liberal man in mydealings."

While he went to the door to show the woman out, I crept round thecorner of the stairs, and up to the room where I had left the boy. Ifound him awaiting me eagerly; it was pleasant to see the fashion inwhich his gaunt face lighted up when I set out the food upon the bed. Hewas so greedy with famine that he began to cram the food into hismouth—almost whimpering over the good things—before I had had time tobegin.

We feasted well, sitting there in the dark; we were very still as weheard Zabdiel Blowfield pause at the door on his way upstairs, andlisten to be sure that all was silent. Fortunately for us, he did notcome in; we heard his shuffling feet take their way towards his ownroom.

He nodded gratefully. "I wish I'd got your courage," he answeredwistfully. "But when he looks at me I begin to tremble, and when hespeaks I shake all over."

"Go to sleep now," I commanded him, "and comfort yourself with thereflection that in the morning he is going to do the shaking and thetrembling for once. Bless your heart!" I added, "I was once like you,and dared not call my soul my own. I'll have no mercy on him, I promiseyou."

He smiled and lay down, and was asleep in no time at all. I had removedthe dishes from the bed, meaning to take them downstairs so soon as Icould be sure that Uncle Zabdiel was asleep. I sat down on a chair bythe open window, and looked out into the night, striving perhaps to seesome way for myself—some future in which I might live in some new andwholly impossible world.

Most bitterly then did I think of the girl who was lost to me for ever.My situation had not seemed to be so desperate while I carried theknowledge in my heart that she believed in me and trusted me; but nowall that was past and done with. In the morning I must begin that fightwith my ancient enemy as to whether I should live, or whether I shouldbe condemned to that living death from which I had escaped; and I knewenough now, in this calmer moment, to recognise the cunning of the manwith whom I must fight, and that the power he held was greater thanmine.

Sitting there, I must at last have fallen asleep, with my head upon thewindow sill; it was hours later when I awoke. The dawn was growing inthe sky, and the boy still slept heavily. I gathered up the dishessilently, and crept out of the room, and put them back in some disorderinto the larder; for to the consumption of that meal I meant to confesssolely on my own account. Then I began to mount the stairs again, toget back to the room I had left.

I heard a noise above me in the house, and I knew instinctively that myuncle had been roused, and was coming down. There was no chance for meto hide, and above all things I knew that he would search the place fromtop to bottom until he found the intruder. More than that, theinevitable meeting must take place at some time, and this time was asgood as, if not better than, any other. So I mounted the stairs, untilat last I saw him on a landing above me, standing in the grey light ofthe morning, with a heavy stick poised in his hands, ready to strike.

He lowered the stick slowly, and looked at me for a moment or two insilence; then I heard him chuckle ironically.

CHAPTER IX.

A SHOOTING PARTY.

Now, my Uncle Zabdiel had known me always as something subservient tohis will, and apparently anxious to please him; he was to meet me now ina different mood. As we stood facing each other, in the grey light ofthe morning which filtered through a high window on to the staircasewhere we had met, I was able to realise that he would once more play thebully with me, if he felt it possible to do so, and that it behoved meto get the upper hand at once if I would bring myself with any creditout of the tangle. So I spoke sharply after that first ironical greetingof his; I wanted the man to understand that he had not to deal with themilk-and-water boy he had known something over a year before.

"I want a word with you," I said, "and I'll say it where it suits youbest to hear it."

"By all means, my dear nephew," he said suavely. "If you will allow meto pass you, I will show you where we can talk in comfort."

I did not like his tone in the least; I began to understand that he hadhad the night in which to think over matters, and had doubtless madegood use of the time. However, I followed him into that room from whichnot so long before I had seen Martha Leach emerge; and there I facedhim, with the door shut behind me.

"You're only partly surprised to see me," I began at once. "You heardlast night that I was alive, and almost in your neighbourhood. A womantold you."

That seemed to stagger him a little; he looked at me keenly and with anew interest. "How do you know that?" he demanded.

I laughed. "I know the woman who told you; she is no friend of mine, asyou may imagine," I answered him. "It must have been rather a shock toyou to know that the nephew of whom you had got rid so easily, and whohad even apparently had the good sense to put an end to his miserableexistence, was very much alive, and likely to trouble you again.Therefore I thought I'd follow up the tale by putting in an appearanceat once, the better to relieve your pardonable anxiety."

He grinned at me in a fashion that would have been disconcerting toanyone else; but I was no longer afraid of him. "And what are yourdemands now?" he asked.

"I'm glad you use the right word," I retorted. "I do demand one or twothings, and I'm sure that you'll see that it is best to comply withthem. In the first place, I demand your silence as to myself."

"And if I refuse?" He had seated himself by this time in his usualchair, and he sat looking at me, with the heavy stick he carried laidacross his knees. "What then?"

I had made up my mind what to say, and I said it at once, though with noreal intention of ever putting my threat into execution; I merely wantedto frighten him.

"Then I shall kill you," I said quietly. "That is no idle threat, as youmay perhaps understand. You're a cleverer man than I am, because I wasnever blessed with much brains; and you will see for yourself that,hunted wretch as I am, it does not matter very much what becomes of me.Nevertheless, I have the natural desire to live, and I only ask to belet alone. The Norton Hyde you knew is buried in the prison to which yousent him; let him rest there. A certain other man, who bears aresemblance to him, finds it necessary to pay you a visit——"

"To break into my house, you mean!" he exclaimed violently. "Your ownaction is the best answer that can be given to any such suggestion asyou make in regard to secrecy. What safety is there for me while you areat large in the world? I'm an old and feeble man; you come here withthreats on your lips to begin with."

"I threaten you only because I know what you intend to do," I replied."I overheard you last night, promising the woman that I should be hunteddown; even making arrangements with her as to how best to set about thathunting down. Consequently I have to protect myself."

He looked at me sourly for a moment or two, as though making up his mindhow best to work round me. "So you've been in the house all night, haveyou?" he said. "I shouldn't have slept quite so soundly if I'd knownthat, I can assure you. My duty is clear; respectable citizens must beprotected against escaped jail-birds and vagrants of your order."

He sprang from his chair, and made a movement towards a great bell ropethat hung at the side of the fireplace. But I was too quick for him; Icaught him by the arm, and swung him away from it, so that he lurchedand staggered towards the other side of the room. There, panting, andwith his stick half raised as though to strike me down, he stoodwatching me.

"Now, I don't want to hurt you," I said; "but in this matter I amdesperate. There is more hangs to it than you can understand. You'vedone evil enough; the money I stole from you has been paid for in onelong year of bitter bondage—paid for doubly, by reason of the fact thatI have no name, and no place in the world, and no hope, and no future.You've taken your toll out of me; all I ask now is to be let alone."

"I won't do it!" he almost shrieked at me. "You shall go back to yourprison; you shall rot there for just so many years as they will add toyour original sentence. You shan't live among honest men; you shall goback to your prison."

I think no shame even now of what I did. My rage against the vindictiveold man was so great that I wonder I did not strike the feeble life outof him where he stood mouthing at me. I strode up to him and wrenchedthe stick out of his hands, took him by the collar of his dressing-gownand shook him backwards and forwards, until at last, half in terror andhalf in weakness, he dropped upon his knees before me.

"Then you must swear to me to let me alone," I said. "Promise that, andI'll never come near you again, and you shall never hear of me again.It's an easy thing to do; surely you must see for yourself that I can'trush into the light of day; I should never have come near you to-night,but that by the merest chance I found out that the woman Martha Leachwas coming to you, and so guessed what her errand was. Come—swear toleave me alone!"

"I swear—I do truly swear!" he said; and I took my hands from him andlet him stagger to his feet.

He got back to his chair again, and sat there, breathing hard, with hislips opening and shutting; I saw that he had had a bad fright. I do notthink, after all, that even in my rage I could have killed him, badly ashe had served me; but I was relieved now to see that I had effected mypurpose. I did not think he would be likely to trouble me again with anythreats of exposure; for the first time in his life he appeared to havea very wholesome dread of me. Indeed, now he began, as soon as he hadgot his breath, to seek in some measure to propitiate me.

"I was excited—annoyed," he said. "Of course, my dear boy, I shouldnever have done anything against you—not really, you know. But it was agreat shock to me, when that woman came and told me that you were aliveand in the neighbourhood—that was a horrible shock. Not but what,Norton, I was glad, in a way—glad to know that you were alive again."

"We'll take that for granted," I said with a laugh. "We have no reasonto love each other, you and I, Uncle Zabdiel; and all I ask is that youshall forget that you ever saw me after I disappeared into my prison. Toyou, and to anyone else in the world who may be interested in theinformation, I am John New."

"The name that has been given to me by a certain friend I have found," Ireplied. "I spoke just now of a second matter about which I wanted totalk to you—a matter of serious moment to myself, and one in which youcan do a kindly action."

He looked at me in the old suspicious manner; yet I saw that in his fearof me he was anxious to please me. "What is it?" he demanded. "And whyshould I do it? I don't believe in kindly actions."

I seated myself on the table beside him, and laid the heavy stick behindme. "Uncle Zabdiel," I began, leaning down so as to look into his eyes,"you're an old man, and, in the ordinary course of things, you can'thave very long to live."

"What the devil are you talking about?" he exclaimed angrily. "There'snothing the matter with me; I'm younger and stronger, in my feelings atleast, than I ever was. I'm hale and hearty."

"You're a weak and defenceless old man, living all alone, with no one inthe world to care for you—with no one to trouble much whether you liveor whether you die," I went on persistently. "God knows you might havemade something of me, if you'd ever set about it in any other fashionthan that you chose to adopt; but you killed Norton Hyde, and he's donewith and forgotten. And you're going on in the same hard, grindingfashion for the rest of your days, until some day, if nothing happens toyou——"

He looked at me with gaping mouth. "What should happen to me?" he askedin a whisper.

I shrugged my shoulders. "How can I possibly tell?" I answered. "I saythat if nothing happens to you, some fine morning you'll be found lyingout stark and stiff on that great bed of yours upstairs, with your eyesopen or shut, as the case may be; and you'll be just the husk of a poorold creature who couldn't take his gold with him, and has slipped awayin the night to meet the God whose laws of humanity and tenderness hehad outraged from the beginning. Yes, Uncle Zabdiel, you'll be just adead old man, leaving behind you certain property, to be squabbled overand fought over. And that will be the end of you."

"You're trying to frighten me," he said, with nervous fingers pluckingat his lips. "I'm very well, and I'm very strong."

"I'm not trying to frighten you; I'm telling you facts. It is just leftfor you to set against all the wrong you have done one little good deedthat may help to balance matters at the finish. And you won't do it."

"I never said I wouldn't do it," he pleaded. "You take me up sosuddenly, Norton; you've no patience. I am an old man, as you say, andsometimes my health and strength are not what they were; but, then,doctors are so infernally expensive. Tell me what you want me to do, myboy; I'll do it if I can."

I was so certain that I had absolutely subdued him that I did nothesitate to lay my plan before him: it was a plan I had had in my mindall the day before, and for some part at least of that night I had spentin the house.

"There is a young lady whom I have met under curious circumstances," Ibegan earnestly, "and that young lady is in great danger."

"Will you listen?" I asked impatiently. "Just understand that this younglady is nothing to me, and never can be anything; but I want to helpher. She hasn't a friend in the world except myself, and I want to findsome place to which, in an emergency, I can bring her, and where shewill be safe. I tell you frankly I wouldn't suggest this to you if therewere any other place on earth to which I could take her; but every otherway of escape seems barred. If I can persuade her to trust me, will yougive her shelter here?"

He looked up at me for a moment or two. I saw that it was in his mind torefuse flatly to have anything to do with the matter. But he had beenmore shaken that night even than I suspected, and he was afraid torefuse me anything. Nevertheless, he began to beat round the question,in the hope of evading a direct answer to it.

"What should I do with a girl here?" he asked. "There's only one oldwoman who comes to the house to look after me. This is no place for agirl; besides, if she's a decent sort of girl, she ought to have amother or a father, or some sort of relative, to look after her."

"And what's her danger?" he asked. "We live in the twentieth century,and there are the police——"

"No, I suppose you can't," he acknowledged. "Well, at any rate, let meknow what you want me to do, and how long the girl will stop—and I'lldo the best I can. After all, perhaps what you said about me being anold man, and being found dead, and all that sort of thing—perhaps itmay have some truth in it. And I've not been so very hard on people, andeven if I have, you seem to think that this kindness to the young ladywill make it all right for me. Because, you know," he added, with ashake of the head, "it's a great deal to ask anyone to do. Girls aremore nuisance than they're worth. Boys are bad enough—but girls!" Heheld up his hands in horror at the mere thought of them.

I felt very grateful to him, and quite elated at my success. I took oneof his feeble old hands, which he yielded with reluctance, and shook itwarmly. "You're doing a greater kindness than you can imagine," I said."I'll let you know if I can persuade the girl to come here; I won't takeyou by surprise again."

"I'm glad to know that, at least," he said. "You've given me an awfulshock as it is. Now I suppose you'll go away again quietly?"

"Yes," I said, getting down from the table, "I'll go away again. But letme give you a word of warning, Uncle Zabdiel: even the best of us areinclined to forget promises in this world. You have sworn that you willnot tell any one my secret."

"No," I answered, "I don't think you would. It would be bad for you ifyou did; my vengeance would reach quite a long way."

"All right, my boy," he replied hastily, as he got to his feet and movedaway from me. "No threats; no threats; they are quite unnecessary."

When I left him it was fully daylight. I came out of the house into thenarrow, high-walled garden, and left him standing at the door in hisblack skull-cap and dressing-gown, peering out at me; then the door wasclosed, and the dark house swallowed him up.

I was now quite determined that I would go back to the house of BardolphJust, and would find out for myself what was happening there. I had noreal hope of meeting Debora, save by accident; I knew that since mydisclosure I was less to her than any common tramp she might meet uponthe roadside. But when I thought of her, without a friend, in that greathouse, and with one man and one woman at least bent upon her death, Ifelt that private considerations must be tossed aside, and that I mustswallow my pride and my sense of injury, and must go to her help. If bysome good fortune I could persuade her that the jail-bird she knew me tobe was swallowed up in the man who hopelessly loved her, and was eagerto help her, I might yet be able to perform that miracle of saving her.I felt that I had conquered the man I had least hope ofconquering—Uncle Zabdiel; I was less afraid of others than I had beenof him.

The thought of Martha Leach troubled me most; there was something soimplacable about her enmity. That she meant to destroy the girl, I knew;and I felt certain, from what I had heard, that she was equally bent ondestroying me. I chuckled to myself at the thought that in that secondbusiness I had defeated her; I was equally confident that I shoulddefeat her in the first. For in defeating her I knew that my surestweapon would be the doctor himself, because anything that happened to mein the way of exposure must bring that dead man from his grave, and mustrevive that scandal he was so anxious to cover up. I made a shrewd guessthat the woman, in rushing full tilt against me, was doing so blindly,and without consulting Bardolph Just. Knowing the power of that man overher, I thought that I could stop her even more easily than I had stoppedmy uncle.

However, I had blundered badly once or twice by plunging headlong intomatters that required careful consideration; with a new wisdom that wascoming to me, I determined to reform that trait in my character, and toweigh what I purposed doing for a few hours before setting about it. Iwould marshal my facts, and so have them ready at my tongue's end when Iwanted them.

Thus it happened that I spent a large part of the day wandering about,and striving to arrive at some definite plan of action. It was late inthe afternoon when I went at last to the house of Bardolph Just, andopened the outer gate and walked into the grounds. I will confess thatmy heart was beating a little heavily, because I knew that I might atany moment meet Debora, and I could guess what her attitude would be.However, I came to the house, and rang the bell, and waited to beadmitted.

The servant who came to the door at last looked at me in some littlesurprise, I thought, but greeted me civilly enough. I enquired for thedoctor as I stood in the hall; I thought the man seemed astonished thatI should ask the question.

"Away?" I stared at the man in a dazed fashion, wondering what he meant."Everybody?"

"Yes, sir. Dr. Just, and Mr. Scoffold, and Miss Debora. They've all gonedown to Green Barn, in Essex, sir. Quite a large party, sir," went onthe man garrulously. "Mrs. Leach has gone with them."

I kept my head lowered, that the man might not see the expression on myface. "When did they go?" I asked slowly.

The man spoke glibly enough as he told his news, and I stood awkwardlyin front of him, wondering what I should do. After a long pause I lookedup, and asked, "Is there no one here at all, except yourself and theother servants?"

"Oh, yes, sir! I quite forgot," said the man. "Old Capper is here, andanother party that the doctor left behind to look after him. Rather arough sort of party, sir—name of Rabbit."

The man told me that they were in a little room at the back of thehouse, and I went there at once. I was more disturbed in my mind aboutthis than about anything else; filled with perplexity that Capper shouldhave been brought back to that house, as I guessed he must have been byHarvey Scoffold; still more puzzled to know why George Rabbit hadappeared on the scene, and what the purpose could be in putting him incharge of that amiable old madman, Capper. I opened the door of the roomand walked in.

George Rabbit was lounging on a window-seat by an open window, smoking apipe; Capper sat upright on a chair, looking at the other man with thatcurious half-wistful, half-puzzled expression that I had seen on hisface before. Mr. Rabbit did not take the trouble to move when I entered;he merely waved a hand nonchalantly, and went on smoking.

"Got a noo job—an' a rummy sort o' job at that," he replied, with ajerk of his head in the direction of Capper. "Plenty to eat an' drink,'an a nice fevver bed to sleep in, 'an on'y him to keep a eye on. Rumole cove, ain't 'e?"

"I thought I warned you to keep away from this place, and to keep awayfrom me," I said sternly.

"You did, 'an you wasn't too nice about the language you put it in," hesaid complacently, as he puffed out a huge volume of smoke. "But, yersee, I wasn't goin' to be ordered abaht by the likes o' you, an' so Ijist made up my mind I'd come along, an' 'ave a little talk wiv thedoctor. Nice man, the doctor—real tip-top gent."

"Yus, but, yer see, I put it plain to the doctor that I might be a bituseful to 'is nibs—a deal more useful inside, w'ere I couldn't talk,than outside, w'ere I could. The doctor seemed to see it in the sameway, an' so 'e left me in charge of this ole chap, wot seems to 'ave atile loose; an' 'e's gorn orf into the country to 'ave a pot at thedicky birds, an' the rabbits an' fings."

"Perlite and haffable as ever!" commented Mr. Rabbit. "By the way, Iunnerstood that you'd gorn, an' that we wasn't goin' to see any more ofyer. You might let me know w'ere you're goin' to live—fer the sake ofole times."

I guessed why he wanted to know my movements. I shrewdly suspected thatthe woman Martha Leach had already given him Zabdiel Blowfield'smessage. Therefore, although my mind was pretty firmly made up as towhat I must do, I determined to put him off the scent.

"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Rabbit heartily. "Then I shall 'ave company.Between you an' me, I'm a little tired of ole waxworks 'ere, wot sitssmilin' an' never syin' a word, except to ask about 'is young master. Itell yer, 'e fair gits on my nerves."

Going into the dining-room, I rang the bell, and waited until theservant who had admitted me put in an appearance; then I asked aquestion quite casually.

"Yes, sir. I was down there myself last year. Very pretty place, sir.Comerford is the station. Essex, sir."

"Oh, I see!" I answered with a yawn. "By the way, I shall stay hereto-night. Is my room ready?"

I dismissed him, and then proceeded to empty my pockets, to discoverwhat money I had. I knew that I must get to Comerford that night; Ibegan to be oppressed with dreadful fears of what might happen in alonely country house, with the girl at the mercy of these three people,all conspiring against her. For by this time I reckoned Harvey Scoffoldas being shoulder to shoulder with the other two in the business.

I found that I had exactly two shillings and threepence, and thereseemed no prospect of my getting any more. I was desperate by this time,and I knew that every moment was precious; if I missed the last train Imight as well not go at all. I determined that in such a cause as thisany scruples of conscience I might have must go to the winds; I mustresume my old trade which had once brought me into disaster.

I looked about for the most valuable article I could discover, andpresently found it, in a beautiful old-fashioned watch, lying upon acabinet merely as an ornament; it was a wonderful piece of workmanship,in three exquisitely engraved and pierced cases. I slipped it into mypocket, and got my cap and a walking-stick from the hall, and slippedunobserved out of the house.

In an old curiosity shop in Heath Street, Hampstead, I sold thewatch—after some haggling I got six pounds for it. Coming out of theplace the richer by that sum, I found a cab, and drove at once toLiverpool Street Station. There I found, by great good fortune, that atrain was to leave for Comerford in less than a quarter of an hour. Itook my seat, and in due course alighted without further adventure atthe little out-of-the-way station bearing that name. Not wishing toattract attention in a place where, doubtless, the doctor was wellknown, I strolled out of the station into the quiet dusk of the summerevening, and took my way down into the village.

You may be sure that I kept a sharp look-out, lest by any chance Ishould stumble upon anyone from Green Barn; and I determined that when Imade enquiries for the place it should be from someone not likely to paymuch attention to me or to note my appearance. I meant to move slowlybut steadily, making as few false steps as possible; and I knew that thefirst thing to be done was to get to the house and find out what washappening there.

In the first place, however, I made up my mind that I would procure abed for the night. I chose a little clean inn in a back street, and fora matter of a shilling or two settled to keep the room as long as Iwanted it. Lounging in the doorway of it with the landlord, I made acasual enquiry as to what places of interest there were in theneighbourhood; and the man, after reeling off a long catalogue of placesabout which I cared nothing, came at last to Green Barn, and told mewhere it lay. I stored that information in my mind, and a little laterstrolled out to find the place.

I found that it lay some little distance from the village, and wassurrounded by very considerable grounds and fields, and a great growthof trees that might, perhaps, by a stretch be called a wood. In thetwilight I saw rabbits hopping about, and heard the cries of birds amongthe trees and bushes. I gathered that there would be there what Ibelieve is known as "good mixed shooting."

The house itself stood in a hollow, and I set it down at once as beingdecidedly lonely and damp. It had unwholesome-looking green lichensstuck about it here and there, and the outhouses were in a bad state ofrepair. As I moved cautiously round it, keeping well within shelter, Isaw no dogs, nor did I observe any stir of life about it, as one mightexpect to see about the country house of a prosperous man. A few lightswere showing in the windows, and when presently I came to the front ofthe house, I saw that the great hall door was standing wide open. Onceor twice I saw a servant cross this, and disappear, as though going fromone room to the other. Presently, as I lay hidden, I saw Harvey Scoffoldcome out with a big cigar between his lips, and his arms swaying aboutlazily above his head, as he stretched himself. He seated himself in acreaking wicker chair on the porch, and I lay watching the glowing endof his cigar for a long time.

Bardolph Just came out presently, and joined him. They sat knee to kneefor a while, with their heads bent forward, talking in low tones; Icould not distinguish what was said. Presently both the heads turned,and the men glanced towards the lighted hall behind them; then thedoctor sprang up, and pushed back his chair.

Then I saw Debora come slowly down the hall to the porch. The doctorspoke to her, and I saw her shake her head. My heart was thumping sothat I had a foolish feeling that they must hear it, and discover mewhere I lay hidden.

The girl came down the few steps from the porch, and turned off into thegrounds. Bardolph Just, after standing looking after her for a longminute, sat down again, and went on talking to Scoffold. So far asDebora was concerned, she confined her walk to an avenue among thetrees, up and down which she paced for half an hour, with her handshanging loosely at her sides, and with an air of utter desolation anddejection upon her. During all that time she only stopped once.

It was at the end of the avenue furthest from the house, and nearest towhere I lay among the bushes. She stopped, and laid an arm against thetrunk of a tree, and put her head against the arm; and so stood for along time, as I felt sure, weeping softly. What I suffered in that timeI will not try to explain; I would have given anything and everything tobe able to steal up to her, and to put my arms about her, and to comforther. But that was, of course, clearly impossible.

She went back into the house at last, passing between the two men andleaving them together on the porch. I determined that I would keep myvigil as long as they did, even though I could not overhear what wassaid. I could see that the doctor was laying down the law upon somematter to Harvey Scoffold. I could see every now and then first one andthen the other turn sharply and glance into the lighted hall, as thoughfearing to be overheard. At last Scoffold, with a gesture of impatience,got up and came down the steps; the great bulk of him blotted out theother man for a moment.

Immediately afterwards the doctor rose, and marched down the steps also,until he came to where Harvey Scoffold was standing. They moved offarm-in-arm into that avenue in which but a little time before the girlhad walked so long; and now I strained my ears, in the hope that I mightcatch what they said. But only scraps of conversation floated to me.

"Don't be a fool, Harvey," I heard the doctor say, "there is absolutelyno danger ... the merest accident."

"I can't say I like it at all; it may seem suspicious. Lonely countryplace, and you with an interest in the girl's death. I consider it muchtoo risky."

They passed me, and came slowly back again. And what I heard then wasstartling enough, in all conscience. It was the doctor who spoke.

"Gun accidents have happened before to-day, and will happen again,especially over such land as this."

I remembered then what I had been told about this shooting party thathad been organised; I wondered what they meant to do. I could onlyshrewdly guess that in some fashion the girl was to be drawn into thematter, and that the doctor had plotted with Harvey Scoffold that anapparent accident of some sort should take place. I did not need to betold who the victim was to be. I lay there, long after they had goneinto the house and the door had been closed, wondering what I should do,and realising more and more with every minute how utterly helpless Iwas. To warn the girl was impossible, because, even if I got speech withher, she would in all probability refuse to believe anything I said. Toset myself face to face with Harvey Scoffold and the doctor would beabsurd, because they would, of course, deny that any such conversationhad taken place, or at least deny the construction I had put upon theirwords. I lay there until very late, debating the matter, and at lastcame to a desperate resolve.

If they meant murder, then I determined that murder should be met withmurder. In some way that was at present vague in my mind I determinedthat I would follow the party on the morrow, if that was the timearranged, and if I could only secure some weapon, even if I were not intime to save her, her death should be avenged. I went home with my headsinging, and with, as it seemed, the sky blood-red above me.

I thought at first that I would borrow a gun from the landlord of theinn, but as I looked a peaceful sort of fellow, I came to the conclusionthat that must at once throw suspicion upon me. I determined, justbefore I went to bed, that I would go very early to Green Barn in themorning, and there would let Fate decide for me at the last moment. Iundressed and went to bed, but it was long before my eyes closed insleep.

I was abroad early, and was actually in the grounds before the house wasastir. I guessed that if this was the date on which they meant to puttheir plan into execution, they would make for that more secluded wood Ihad observed the night before, and I determined that when the time cameI would take my station there. But first I made up my mind that I musthave a weapon, and boldly enough I decided that I would get that, if theworst came to the worst, from the house itself. With that purpose inmind, I crept as near to the house as I could, with a view to observinghow the rooms were placed, and in the hope that I might discover thegun-room, if such a place existed.

Fortune favoured me. I worked my way gradually round towards the back ofthe house, and judged that the party were at breakfast, by the fact thatnow and then a servant crossed a small paved yard, bearing dishes. Icounted the number of times she went, and I reckoned my chances on twothings. First, I guessed that some of the servants would be in thedining-room, and the others in the kitchens, which were detached fromthe house; the servant I saw pass to and fro was the messenger betweenboth. And while I noted that fact, I saw that the gun-room was just offthe small hall into which she went each time she carried anythingacross. I could see the shining barrels against the walls distinctly.

What I purposed doing was this. Counting the time carefully, I wouldwait for her to cross the yard and to go into the house; then, when shehad disappeared, I would follow, and would get into the gun-room. Beforeshe came out of the house again I should have time to select a weaponand to load it; to remain concealed in the gun-room, into which she wasnot likely to look; and to come out and make my way into the groundsafter she had disappeared into the kitchens.

My plan prospered as well as I had hoped. I slipped into the gun-room asthe girl disappeared into the house, and in a moment I had a gun downfrom its place, and had slipped the cartridges into position. Makingsure that all was right, I crouched behind the door, and saw the girlpass and cross the yard, and disappear; then I stole out, and, gettingclear of the house, ran hard for the woods. There I dropped down into alittle hollow in the thickest part of the trees, and waited.

In something less than half an hour I saw them coming towards me fromthe direction of the house; Harvey Scoffold and the doctor, with Deborawalking between. She was dressed smartly in a shooting costume, andcarried a light gun over her shoulder, as did the others. They madestraight for the woods; and I lay there, with murder in my heart and thegun gripped in my fingers.

CHAPTER X.

I TOUCH THE SKIRTS OF HAPPINESS.

My feeling of horror at what I instinctively knew was soon to happen wasperhaps increased by the fact that this morning the girl seemed to be inthe brightest possible humour. She was laughing and chatting, turningfirst to one man and then to the other, as she stepped gaily alongbetween them. Nor were Harvey Scoffold and Bardolph Just lacking inapparent good humour; Harvey Scoffold, in particular, was laughingboisterously. Every now and then the two men would exchange glancesbehind the unconscious girl, as though assuring each other that theywere ready for some signal to pass from one to the other.

They came straight on down through the wood, with one figure now hiddenfor a moment by the trees, and then the three of them fully in sightagain. In the hollow where I lay I now and then heard a quick rustling,and saw a rabbit dart across and disappear; I realised that I might bein some danger if the party fired in my direction. But concerning that Iwas quite reckless.

Debora proved to be a capital shot, and Harvey Scoffold was second onlyto her. The doctor fired only once, and then he missed; I saw the girlturn and look at him, and laugh. And his face was not pleasant to see.

At last I saw what I had expected. Harvey Scoffold and the girl movedforward a little, and the doctor stopped. I saw Scoffold look back, witha sharp turn of the head for a moment; saw him glance sideways at thegirl. I raised myself a little, and, with my heart thumping against myribs, levelled the gun I held, and looked along the smooth, shiningbarrel of it until I had Bardolph Just squarely at the end of it.

A rabbit darted across, straight in front of Harvey Scoffold and thegirl; I saw it out of the tail of my eye as I watched the doctor. Bothguns spoke, and even as they did so I saw Bardolph Just with his gun tohis shoulder, and the barrel pointing straight at the girl's back, notfive yards in front of him. It was all so sudden—first the bark of thetwo guns in front—then my own weapon seemed to go off at the samemoment. In my excitement I let him have both barrels; I saw his own gunexplode harmlessly in the air, and then fall from his hands. He droppedto his knees with a cry, and held his left wrist with the fingers of hisright hand locked round it. His face was very white, and he rockedhimself backwards and forwards as he knelt there, and bit his lower lipuntil I saw a faint trickle of blood down his chin.

I knew that I had in all probability shattered his wrist; so much atleast I hoped. The others had run back, and the girl was kneeling besidehim, while Scoffold stood staring at him in very genuine amazement. Isaw the doctor turn his head swiftly and look sharply in my direction;then he said something in a low tone to Scoffold. I could not hear whatwas said, but I saw him stagger to his feet, with the help of the girl,and saw them go slowly towards the house. Harvey Scoffold stood still,looking after them for a moment; then he turned sharply and facedtowards where I was. I saw him open the breech of his gun and slip acartridge in; then he walked straight towards me.

My gun was of course empty, but when he first caught sight of me I waskneeling in a very business-like attitude, with the weapon levelled. Helooked straight down the barrels of it. He stopped, and I saw himfumbling with the trigger of his own.

"I'll tell you presently," I answered him, still keeping my gun raised."Now, reverse that gun of yours; come a little nearer. That's it; nowlay it on the grass. Go back a pace or two; now stand still. Andremember that if you play any tricks I'm in a mood to blow your brainsout. I shall shootyou through the head, Mr. Harvey Scoffold—notthrough the arm."

By this time he was standing some paces away, his arms hanging by hissides. I got up, and stepped forward to where his gun lay, and picked itup. I dropped my own behind me. "Perhaps you'd like to know," I said,after I had made sure that the gun I had taken from him was loaded,"that my own weapon was unloaded. The doctor had both barrels."

I heard him mutter something under his breath, and I guessed prettyaccurately what it was. He kept his eyes on me, evidently watching for away of escape; he shifted his feet uneasily, as he stood there coveredby his own gun.

"Now, Harvey Scoffold, I'll have a little explanation with you before Igo up to the house," I said. "You were in the plot to murder this younggirl. Be careful how you answer me, for my temper is such at this momentthat my fingers itch for this trigger."

"My dear fellow—I do assure you——" he began; but at the look in myeyes he hung his head, and blurted out the truth.

"What could I do?" he muttered. "I did my best to stop it—to persuadethe doctor to abandon the idea. I only came out this morning because Ithought—because I hoped I might be able to prevent it."

"You are lying, Harvey Scoffold," I told him. "I have been here bothlast night and since early this morning; I have seen everything, andheard a great deal. You were in the plot; you were to hold the attentionof the girl while murder was done. If I had not been here she would belying dead now."

"It's true," he said. "I'm bound to confess it's true. But I thank Godyou came in time!"

"Bah!" I ejaculated contemptuously. "I don't like your penitence, Mr.Scoffold. Now turn about and go up to the house. I'll follow you."

He hesitated for a moment, and then turned and walked towards the house.I picked up the other gun and followed him, and in that order we came tothe house, and marched up the steps and into the hall. He looked back atme over his shoulder then.

"I want to see the doctor," I replied, setting the guns down in acorner. "Lead the way; I'll follow you."

He turned into a room on the right, crossed it, and came to a door atthe other side. Opening this, he passed through, and I followed him.Directly I got into the room I saw before me a curious little scene, andone that, even now, in the recollection of it, sends a thrill at once ofpity and of admiration through me, however unwillingly. The doctor wasseated by a table, on which was spread a white cloth; an open case ofsurgical instruments was by his side. Leaning across the table wasMartha Leach, doing something with a bowl of water and a small sponge.Very slowly and calmly Bardolph Just was cleaning the broken flesh andbone, quite as calmly, save for an occasional spasm of pain that crossedhis face, as though he had been operating on a patient. He turned hishead for a moment as we came into the room, and stopped what he wasdoing.

But I stood my ground. "Thanks," I replied, "I prefer to remain. Thereis a word or two to be said between us, doctor; but pray don't let meinterrupt what you are doing. Your injury is not quite as bad as I hadhoped; but then I am not much good behind a gun. I hoped to hit a vitalspot."

He rewarded me for that remark with a scowl, and went on again with thework in hand. Now and then he gave a quick order, half under his breath,to the obedient Martha Leach, who waited upon him slavishly; under hisdirection she presently bound up the arm, after cutting splints for itaccording to a fashion he told her. Then, in obedience to a sign fromhim, she brought him a small glass of spirits, which he drank quickly; Isaw the colour begin to come back into his white face.

"That was an ordeal, Harvey," he said. "Upon my word, I didn't think Ihad the courage. I think it'll mend all right now; both bones wereshattered."

He took not the faintest notice of me, as he presently laid his hand ina sling which the woman Leach dexterously twisted round his neck. Henodded to her in token that she should go; and she went slowly out ofthe room, carrying the cloth and basin with her; she gave me a deadlylook as she passed me. But for her looks I no longer cared.

Perhaps the least composed of the three of us was Harvey Scoffold; hefidgeted about from one foot to the other, and strove to whistle a tune;and all the while glanced furtively at Bardolph Just or at myself.Bardolph Just, for his part, stood like a man slowly making up his mindto something; I saw, besides, that he was raging within himself withpain, and mortification, and chagrin, and could with difficulty controlhis feelings. When at last he looked up he repeated that question he hadasked before.

"I preferred to shoot you rather than see murder done; I meant to killyou, if I could, because I counted your life more worthless than that ofMiss Debora Matchwick."

"No," I answered him, "there was to be an accident, and no one wouldhave been more sorry than her dear, devoted guardian at the deplorableresult of that accident! You need not lie to me, Dr. Just; youraccomplice has already given the game away."

He glanced quickly at Harvey Scoffold, and that gentleman merelyshrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands protestingly; but I sawthat the doctor believed that Scoffold had been made to speak. Thedoctor walked across to the window, and stood there looking out for sometime. He spoke at last, without turning his head.

"You constitute yourself judge and executioner both," he said. "If youhad killed me I think it must have proved a hanging matter for you, Mr.Jail-bird."

"But I should have saved the girl," I answered. "What is my life worth,that I should weigh it in the balance when there is a question of hersafety?"

"I am going to see Miss Matchwick, and I am going to put the case fairlybefore her," I replied steadily. "I intend to tell her of the threeattempts you have made upon her life; I intend to let her understandthat your game, Dr. Just, is murder."

"Very fine, and very brave," he remarked; then he suddenly swung roundon me, and barked out a question. "If you are so certain of your facts,why not go to the police—why not stop this game of murder, as you callit?"

"You know I can't do that," I said. "In the first place I cannot evendeclare who I am, nor why I'm in your house; and in the second, as youknow, I have no proof."

He walked across to where Harvey Scoffold was standing, and nudged himwith his free arm in the ribs. "Hark to him, Harvey—hark to this finetalker! He has no proof—and he dare not show himself as other menmight. This thing without a name is going to do doughty deeds for thesake of a young girl; he claims already to have saved her three timesfrom death. What is anybody to make of it, if he chooses to tell hisstory?"

"I make this of it," I broke in hotly. "I am here to see Miss Matchwick;I will put the thing fairly before her. If I can do nothing else, I canat least show her where her danger lies, so that she may not walk intoit without her eyes open."

I never understood the man until long afterwards—at least, I neverunderstood him fully; perhaps if I had I should have been prepared forthe desperate chances he took, and for the sheer recklessness with whichhe carried matters through. He turned now to Scoffold, and saidquickly—

"That's a good notion, Harvey; that's a fair and just thing to say.We've had enough of this fellow, who brags and boasts, and shoots menfrom behind bushes. The young lady shall judge for us, and shall givehim his dismissal. It's a good idea, and one that we will see carriedout. Fetch Debora here."

"Stop!" I cried, as Harvey Scoffold was moving towards the door. "We'llhave no underhand tricks, and no warnings. Ring the bell, and send aservant for Miss Matchwick."

Scoffold stopped and looked at the doctor; the latter slowly nodded hishead. So it came about that Scoffold rang the bell, and on the coming ofthe servant requested that Miss Debora should be asked to step that way.After the man had retired, and while we waited in a grim silence for thecoming of Debora, I felt my cheeks begin to flame; almost it seemed asthough I felt again the sharp tingling pain where she had lashed meacross the face.

When the door opened at last the girl came in quickly. She walkedstraight towards where the doctor stood, and spoke at once impulsively.

"Oh, I am so sorry—so very sorry!" she said. "How did it happen? Haveyou found out who did it?"

Bardolph Just did not speak; he simply looked at me. Following thedirection of his eyes, she turned also and looked at me. I saw her drawherself up with that quick little lift of her chin; I saw a dawningsmile in the doctor's eyes.

"He came, my dear Debora, with a purpose—a purpose which he has partlyaccomplished. My broken wrist tells its own tale; had he had his way, Ishould probably not be speaking to you now."

"Had he had his way, Miss Debora," I blurted out, "you would be lyingdead somewhere in this house—as the result of an accident!"

I saw her face blanch; she turned furtive, frightened eyes for a momenton the doctor. He shook his head, with a lifting of the eyebrows whichseemed to suggest that he left such a mad accusation to be judgedproperly by her; and she flashed round on me.

"Thank you, my dear child," said Bardolph Just. "I might have known whatyour answer would be."

The girl had turned her head, and was looking at me steadily. What wasin her mind I could not tell, for her face told me nothing. Scorn of meI could read, and contempt; I felt my heart sink, even while I nervedmyself for the task before me.

"Is that why I am sent for?" she said. "Is it to hear such an accusationas this? Is this what you had to say to me?"

Still her eyes looked contemptuously into mine, where I stood halfabashed before her; still I felt that the doctor was growing momentarilymore sure of his victory.

"I asked that you might be sent for," I said, beginning my replysteadily, "in order that you might understand what is being done, andthat you might guard yourself against it. If you think me so poor athing that I may not help you, then for God's sake set me aside out ofthe matter; get someone else more worthy to assist you. But wakeup—open your eyes—face this Death that is waiting for you at everyturn!"

She might have been a figure of stone, so little movement did she make.And now I saw that both Harvey Scoffold and the doctor were watchingher, and not me.

"I have pleaded with you before; I have told you what I know is beingdone against you and against your life," I went on, speaking moreeagerly with every word. "That man has tried to kill you three severaltimes. He tried to make you walk out of that door at dead of night; hetried to poison you—of those things I have already told you. I was ableto save you on those two occasions, but after that he sent me away fromyou, and I had to leave you to the mercy of these men. Only by themerest chance did I find out that you had come down here, and were goingon this apparently innocent expedition this morning. Will you notbelieve me when I tell you that I heard the whole thing plotted betweenthem last night?"

"There was to be an accident this morning; gun accidents have happenedfrequently. Mr. Scoffold there received his instructions——"

"Hold your tongue!" snapped the doctor unexpectedly. "Let him say whathe has to say."

"So I got a gun from the house," I went on; "for I meant to kill Dr.Just, if by chance I was quick enough to prevent him carrying out hisscheme. I lay in the woods over there, and I waited; then I saw HarveyScoffold walk in front with you, and I saw the doctor step back. As Godis my witness I saw the man raise his gun and point it direct at you;then I raised my own and fired."

Very slowly she turned her head, and stole a look at the doctor's face.I saw him repeat his former gesture, as though it were not worth whilefor him to deny the matter; the thing was so absurd. I saw Debora alsoglance at Harvey Scoffold, who smiled gaily and shook his head; then shelooked back towards me. I did not understand her; I could not read intothat mind that was behind her unfathomable eyes. If, while I waited forher judgment, I looked at her with any look of pleading, it was onlythat she might, for her own sake, judge me fairly, and judge me to behonest.

"I won't trouble to remember the absurd name you bear, a name which isnot your own," she began very quietly. "I will only remember that youare nobody, and that you forced your way into Dr. Just's house while youwere a criminal flying from the law. Do you think it likely that Ishould take your word in such a matter as this?"

I saw Bardolph Just exchange a quick look with Harvey Scoffold, a lookcompounded of gratification as well as amazement. Scoffold, for hispart, was openly grinning.

"Your zeal for me and for my welfare is quite misplaced, and quiteunnecessary," went on Debora. "I'm sorry you should have thought itnecessary to try and kill my guardian; it is a merciful thing that youhave only injured him. That is all I have to say to you."

"Debora," I said, looking at her earnestly, "I entreat you to believethat what I have said is true. I know these men; I know what theirpurpose is; I know what must inevitably happen if you will not realiseyour own danger."

"Come—we've had enough of this!" broke in Bardolph Just. "It's quitetime we told this fellow that he'd best get away from the place, and beseen here no more. He's had his answer, and I hope he's pleased withit."

"Debora," I went on, ignoring the man altogether, "I will take you awayfrom this place, and will put you with friends who will be good to you.Debora, won't you listen to me?"

"I have given you my answer, and it is a final one," she said. "Had thewarning come from anyone else I might have been troubled byit—mystified by it; coming from a man with your record it is worthless.When I listened to you first I did not understand who you were; now Iknow. That is the end of it."

"It is not the end of it!" I cried fiercely, as she turned away from me."I will save you in spite of yourself; I will make you understand yourdanger, even if you do not see it now. I shall ask no thanks and seek noreward. I shall have done it for another reason." I turned to thedoctor, and pointed a finger at him. "As for you, sir, such aretribution is preparing for you as shall not be long delayed. You thinkyou have seen the last of me—you have not done that by any means. Don'tforget that I am a desperate man, with nothing to lose in this worldsave my liberty; and I shall not count that, if it becomes necessary forme to declare who I am, and to come forward into the light of day toprotect this girl. That's my last word on the matter."

Mr. Harvey Scoffold obeyed with alacrity, and, thus dismissed, I wentout of the house, and made my way towards the village. I was sent uponmy way more quickly, perhaps, from hearing a peal of laughter from theroom I had left. I went away with rage and bitterness in my heart.

I went back to my lodging at the little inn, more perplexed than ever asto what I should do. I knew that this was a new danger which threatenedthe girl, because she would prove an easier victim in any new schemewhich might be maturing, by reason of her belief in the man who meant tokill her; her trust in him would make her utterly unsuspicious. Thethought of that drove me almost frantic, and I raged up and down mylittle room in the inn, tormented by doubts and fears, and seeing my ownhelplessness loom more largely before me with every moment. Late in theafternoon I went out into the village of Comerford, undecided whether togo back to London, or whether to remain in that place. I wanderedaimlessly about the streets, and finally seated myself on a gate alittle way out, and propped my chin in my hands and gave myself up tothe gloomiest thoughts.

I became aware, in a curious, detached fashion, of a small country boy,with a very freckled face and very light hair, who had walked past metwice, and had observed me narrowly; now I came to think of it, I hadseen him loitering along on the other side of the street some half-hourpreviously. I looked at him with a frown now, and asked him what hewanted.

To my surprise he asked me if I was Mr. John New. I sat up and looked athim, and said that I was. From one of his pockets the boy drew out atwisted piece of paper, flattened it with one grubby hand upon theother, and spelled out the name. Then to my amazement, he handed thenote to me.

He told me that a lady had given it to him, and had given him also ashilling to find me. She had told him what I was like, and that I was astranger in the village; my aimlessly wandering about the streets haddone the rest, and had shown me to him. I added another shilling to theboy's new wealth on the spot, and he went away happy. Then I untwistedthe note, and read what was written on it.

So much had I been tricked, and so little faith had I in man or womanthen, that for a moment I believed that this was another trap set, intowhich my feet should stumble. But the next moment, I told myself thatsurely this village boy would not have lied to me over the matter. Awoman had sent the note, and it could be but one woman. I thrust theprecious paper into my pocket, and set off then and there, with my heartsinging within me, to the place appointed.

I came to it well before the time, and found it to be just as the notedescribed. I had kept well away from the wood, and I came easily to theold disused chalk-pit, which had in it a small pond of stagnant water,formed by the rains of many seasons. Half-way up one side of it was thelittle hut to which Debora had referred. I made my way to it at once.Sitting down on an old bench, I looked through the open door, and socould command the way by which she would come.

The time drew on, and still I saw nothing of her. I was beginning tothink that some one had discovered that she had communicated with me, orelse that, after all, this might be a trap set for me. I blamed myselfthat I was here in this lonely place without a weapon. And thensuddenly, far off, I saw what it was that had delayed her.

The evening was very still and very fine; I could see a long way.Presently, in the distance, I made out a figure walking backwards andforwards on the edge of the wood; after quite a long time I made it outto be the doctor. I knew in a moment that the man stood as a barrierbetween the girl in the house and me in the hut, and that while he keptunconscious guard there it was impossible for us to meet. Yet I was ashelpless as she must be, and I could only wait until it pleased the manto go back to the house.

He must have walked there backwards and forwards for more than half anhour before I suddenly saw him in the clear light stop, and snap thefingers of his uninjured hand together, with the action of a man comingto a sudden quick resolution; then he turned, and went off with longstrides in the direction of the house. I wondered what he was going todo.

I endured another period of waiting that seemed interminable; and then Isaw her coming quickly through the wood and down towards the chalk-pit.She skirted the edge of it, and came on quickly towards where I stood inthe doorway of the hut waiting for her. After her declaration in thehouse, in the presence of the two men, I could not know in what mood shecame, and I was puzzled how I should greet her. About that, however, Ineed not have thought at all, for the miracle of it was that she camestraight towards me, with her eyes shining, and her hands stretched outtowards me, so that in the most wonderful way, and yet in a way mostnatural, I took her suddenly in my arms. And she broke at once into atorrent of prayers and excuses.

"Oh, my dear! my dear! I was so afraid you would not meet me. I have notdeserved that you should; it might have happened that you would notunderstand, and would believe that all the hateful things I said weremeant by me. You didn't believe that, did you?"

"Don't you understand that I should have had no chance at all with thosemen, unless I had thrown them off their guard? I hated myselfafterwards, when they laughed and joked about you; I could have killedthem. Then I made up my mind that I must send and find you."

"It was wonderful that the boy should know me so easily," I answered."How did you describe me?"

She hung her head, and I saw the colour mount from neck to brow. "I toldthe boy to look for a man with the mark of a blow across his face," shewhispered; and then, before I could prevent her, even had I wished, shehad put her arms about my neck and had drawn my head down, and waskissing me passionately on the mark itself. "That's to heal it—andthat—and that—and that!" she whispered.

We were both more composed presently, and were seated side by side onthe old bench inside the hut. We had no fear of being surprised byanyone; the side of the chalk-pit went up sheer behind the hut, and fromthe edge of it all was open country. Before us, as I have said,stretched the chalk-pit itself, and the wood, and beyond that thegrounds of the house. So we sat contentedly, and looked into eachother's eyes, and said what we wanted to say.

"It came upon me suddenly," began Debora, "this morning when I turnedand saw Dr. Just on his knees, holding his wrist. I seemed to knowinstinctively that you had shot him. I knew, dear, that you would notrun away, and I had time before they sent for me to make up my mind whatto do. I had not quite realised what he had meant to do. I did not thinkhe would be daring enough to shoot me in that fashion. But I am glad,for your sake, that you did not kill him."

"So am I—now," I replied. "And you do believe, my dearest girl, that hehas really tried on these three occasions to take your life?"

"I know it," she answered, with a little shiver. "But it is for the lasttime. See"—she placed her hands in mine, and looked fearlessly into myeyes—"for the future you shall look after me—you shall take care ofme. Is that too bold a thing to say?"

I drew her close to me. "No, Debora mine," I whispered, "because I loveyou. I am what you called me—a thing without a name, but in my heart Iam honest; in my heart I love the name that has been given me, becauseby that you first knew me."

I told her of my plans: that we should go away then and there, and thatfor that night I would give her the room I had taken at the inn, andwould find a lodging in another place. Then, quite early, before anyonewe need fear was awake, we would start off into the world, on someimpossible mission of making a fortune, and living happily for everafterwards.

"But you forget, John dear—I have a fortune already," she reminded me."That belongs to me—that we must get."

I was troubled at the thought of that, troubled lest she might believe,even for one fleeting moment, that I set that fortune as of greatervalue than herself. I was about to speak of it when she suddenly turnedto me, and began to speak with the deepest earnestness of quite anothermatter.

"There is something I must say to you—now, before we leave this place,"she said. "I want first of all to tell you that I never loved GregoryPennington; he was only my dear friend—my brother."

"And I want to tell you now that I am absolutely certain in my own mindthat the boy never killed himself."

I was so startled that for a moment I could not answer her. She glancedout of the door of the hut, as though fearing that even in that placeshe might be overheard, and then went on speaking at a great rate:

"It was the last thing he would have done; there was no reason for it atall. He was happy, because he had always the mistaken hope that he mightpersuade me to love him. On the very night of his death—the night whenyou came there—he, too, had tried to persuade me to leave the house,and go away with him; like yourself, he believed that I was not safewith Dr. Just. Do you believe for a moment that, having said that to me,he would walk into the house and put a rope about his neck? No, I won'tbelieve it!"

She answered me quite solemnly, and with the same deep earnestness I hadheard in her tones before. "He was killed—murdered—by Dr. Just!"

"For the same reason that would prompt the man to seek your death, if hecould," she said. "Bardolph Just knew that Gregory Pennington wanted toget me to go away; Gregory probably told him so that night. If I wentaway and married anyone, my fortune went with me, and it is my horriblefortune that has come near to losing me my life. I know, as surely as ifI had seen it done, that the doctor killed Gregory Pennington. That hehanged him afterwards, to give colour to the idea of suicide, I quitebelieve; that would account for his anxiety to let you change placeswith the dead man."

"Another thought occurs to me," I said, after a pause. "Poor GregoryPennington's servant—the man Capper—must have seen what happened; theshock of it has left his mind a blank."

That thought had been in my mind too, but I had been too startled atwhat I had heard to speak of it. We left the matter where it was, and asthe twilight was now coming on, came out of the hut and took our way bya circuitous route back towards the village. I took the girl to the inn,and left her in charge of the kindly landlady, giving the womaninstructions that under no circumstances was she to let anyone know thatthe girl was there. I think the landlady scented a runaway match, forshe smiled and nodded, and put a finger on her lips in token ofsilence.

Nothing happened, however, during that night; and in the morning quiteearly Debora stepped out of the little inn into the village street, andwe went off happily together to the railway station. There, by an earlymarket train, we got to London, coming to it just as all the people werepouring into the busy city for the day. I took Debora to a little,old-fashioned hotel that I had heard of near the Charterhouse, and lefther there while I set off on a mission of my own. I had determined that,before ever I saw my uncle, or availed myself of his promise to lookafter the girl, I would go again to that solitary house in which GregoryPennington had died, and would find the man Capper. For now I had thethreads of the thing strongly in my fingers; I knew from what point tostart, and I could put certain questions to Capper that he might be ableto answer.

I came to the house soon after mid-day, and opened the gate in the fenceand went in. Lest I should be refused admission for any reason, Idetermined that I would, if possible, slip into the house by the backway; and I made my way cautiously round there. So it happened that Icame in sight of that open window, on the window-seat of which I hadleft Mr. George Rabbit reclining while he kept guard over the littlegrey-headed man called Capper. And I was in time to see a curious sceneenacted before my eyes at that very window, just as though it had been ascene in some play. I was hidden among the trees, so that no one saw me,but I could both see and hear distinctly.

Standing with his back to the window, and with his arms folded, wasGeorge Rabbit, and his attitude was evidently one of defiance. Leaningagainst the side of the window-frame, watching him, and glancing also atsomeone else within the room, stood Capper, with nervous fingersplucking at his lips, and with that vacant smile upon his face. The manRabbit was speaking.

"I know too much to be turned aht, or to be told to do this or to dothat. I'm much too fly for that, guv'nor, an' so I tell yer. Money's mygame, 'an money I mean to 'ave."

The voice that replied, to my very great surprise, was the voice ofBardolph Just. "We'll see about that, you dog!" he shouted. And withthat I ran round at once through the back door, into the house, and madefor the room.

I darted in, in time to see the doctor with a heavy stick raised in hisright hand; he was in the very act of bringing it down with all hisforce, in a very passion of rage, on the head of George Rabbit. The manput up his arm in time to save his head, and drew back with a cry ofpain, and stopped dead on seeing me. The doctor swung round, too, andlowered the stick.

But the strangest thing of all was the sight of the man Capper. As thatblow had fallen, his eyes had been fixed upon the doctor; and I had seena great change come suddenly over his face. It was as if the man hadbeen turned into another being, so strangely had the face lighted up. Hegave what was nothing more nor less than a scream, and leapt straightfor the doctor. As the doctor swung about at the sound, the man Cappercaught him by the throat, and held on, and swayed about with him, andseemed to be striving to choke him.

CHAPTER XI.

UNCLE ZABDIEL IN PIOUS MOOD.

Dr. Bardolph Just, big, powerful man though he was, seemed practicallyhelpless in the grasp of William Capper, who hung on to him, and worriedhim as some small terrier might worry a dog of larger size. Moreover,the doctor was hampered with his broken wrist; while George Rabbit andmyself, for the matter of that, were so thunderstruck by the suddenonslaught of that mild, quiet, little creature, who had hitherto seemedso harmless, that we stood staring and doing nothing. And the doctorbattled with his one free arm, and shouted to us for help.

"Pull him off, can't you?" he shouted. "Devil take the man! what is heat? Let go, I say; do you want to kill me?"

By that time I had recovered my senses so far as to fling myself uponCapper, and to drag him off by main force. So soon as I had got hold ofhim, he seemed to collapse in the strangest way—dropped into my arms,and shuddered, and stared from one to the other of us, as thoughawakening from some terrible nightmare. His teeth were chattering, andhe looked wildly round, as though wondering what had been happening.

The doctor was arranging his collar and tie, and looking amazedly atCapper. "What's the matter with the fellow?" he panted. "What set himoff like that?" He stamped his foot, and looked at the trembling man."Answer me—you! What roused you like that?"

Capper shook his head in a dull way; then pressed the palms of his handsto his forehead. "I—I don't know," he answered, in something of thesame fashion in which I had always heard him answer questions; "I didn'tmean—"

His voice trailed off, and he stood there, a drooping, pathetic figure,staring at the floor. For my part, I could not take my eyes from theman. I found myself wondering whether that outburst had been the merefrenzy of a moment, or whether behind it lay something I did not thenunderstand. In the silence that had fallen upon us the doctor looked atthe man in a queer, puzzled way; I thought he seemed to be askinghimself the same questions that were in my own mind. After a moment ortwo he turned his glance resentfully on me, seeming to become aware, forthe first time, of my presence.

"And what bringsyou here?" he demanded. I was at a loss how to answerhim. I had had a vague hope that I might be able to see Capper alone,or, at all events, only in the company of George Rabbit; I could not nowdeclare my intention of questioning the man. I resorted to subterfuge; Ishrugged my shoulders and made what reply I could.

"What is a poor wretch to do who has no home, no money, and noprospects? You turn me out of one place, so I come to the other."

"Well, you can leave this one, too," he replied sourly. "How did you getback from Essex? Did you tramp?"

I saw at once that he must have left the place and come to London on theprevious day; it was obvious that he knew nothing of Debora'sdisappearance. Nor had he yet discovered the theft of that old-fashionedwatch. He could have no suspicion that I had money in my pockets. Ianswered as carelessly as I could.

"Yes," I said, "I tramped most of the way. I should not have come innow, but that I saw some trouble going on with Rabbit here, and thoughtI might be of use."

"I can look after meself, thank you for nothink," retorted Mr. Rabbitpolitely. "Seems to me that I'm given all the dirty work to do, an' Idon't git nuffink but thumps for it. If it 'adn't bin fer that pluckylittle chap there, I shouldn't 'ave stood much charnce," he added,scowling at the doctor. "He went for you a fair treat, guv'nor."

"You must have made him precious fond of you, to take your part likethat," said the doctor, with a glance at Capper. "Did he think I wasgoing to kill you?"

I saw that Capper was standing in the old attitude, with his handshanging beside him, and his eyes cast to the floor; then I had a curiousfeeling that he was listening. So still was he, and so meek and broken,that it seemed incredible that but a minute or two before he had beentearing like a demon at the throat of the doctor. Now, while he stoodthere, he suddenly began to speak, in a quiet, level voice, but littleraised above a whisper.

"I hope, sir, that you won't send me away," he said. "I forgot myself; Iwouldn't harm you for the world, sir. If you will let me stay—if youwill let me keep near you—if I might even be your servant? I don't wantto be sent away from you, sir."

All this without raising his head, and with the air of a shamed boypleading for forgiveness. It was the more pitiful because of themeekness of the figure, and of the thin grey hair that covered theman's head. To do him justice, the doctor behaved magnanimously.

"Well, we'll say no more about it, Capper," he replied. "Perhaps you'renot quite yourself. We'll overlook it. For the rest, you shall remainhere, if you behave yourself. You seem a good, faithful sort of fellow,but you mustn't fly into passions because rogues like this get what theydeserve." He pointed sternly to George Rabbit.

"Rogues!" Mr. Rabbit looked properly indignant, and lurched forward fromthe window towards the doctor. "I ain't so sure as you've put that booton the right leg, guv'nor," he said. "I've 'ad enough of this 'ere—thiskeepin' me mouf shut, an' not gettin' anyfink for it. Wot's the good offive quid—you can on'y dream abaht it w'en it's gorn. I'm goin' to takewot I know w'ere I shall git summink for it—w'ere I shall be paid'andsome, an' patted on the back, an' told I'm a good boy. I'm a honestman—that's wot I am; an' I've 'ad enough of seem' jail-birds walkingabout in good clobber, an' 'ighly respectable gents givin' 'em shelter,an' payin' me not 'alf enough not to blab. Yus, Mr. Norton 'Yde, it'syou what I'm talkin' about—an' 'ere goes to make an endin' of it!"

Before anyone could stop him he had made a run for the window, and hadvaulted over the sill, and was gone. I made a step to go after him, butthe doctor detained me with a gesture.

"It's no use; if he has made up his mind to speak you can't stop him.Take my advice, and keep away from here, and away from Green Barn, too.There's a chance, of course, that the man will say nothing; he may comewhining back here, to try and get money out of me. In any case, Mr.Norton Hyde, I've had enough of the business; you can shift foryourself. It may interest you to know that I am winding up my affairs,and I'm going abroad. And in this instance I shall not go alone."

I could afford not to notice that sneer, because I knew that I held thewinning hand, and that Debora was mine. So I made no answer; I knew thatthere were cards I could play when the time came—cards of which he knewnothing. My only doubt was as to the man Capper; because, if Debora'ssuspicions were true, it was vitally necessary that we should get holdof the man, and should question him. More than that, I knew that Deborahad in her the spirit to move heaven and earth over the matter of herdead friend, Gregory Pennington, to discover the manner of his death.

Yet here was William Capper, for some strange reason, swearing devotionto the doctor, and begging to be allowed to remain with him. Even if Icould get hold of the man, I knew that in his present state of mind Icould do no good with him; he might in all innocence go to the doctor,and tell him what my questions had been. There was nothing for it but toleave the matter alone, and to return to Debora. Accordingly I took myleave, if such a phrase can be used to describe my going.

"I shan't trouble you again," I said to Bardolph Just. "For your ownsake, I think you will do your best to ensure that the secret of GregoryPennington's death is kept." I glanced quickly at the man Capper as Ispoke; but my words seemed to have no effect upon him, save that onceagain I thought he seemed to be listening, and that, too, with someintentness. But I felt, even in that, that I might be wrong.

"What do you mean by that?" snapped the doctor, turning upon me inanswer to my remark.

"You told me once that you were anxious to keep the matter a secret, inorder to avoid giving pain, and to prevent any scandal touching yourhouse," I answered steadily. "What other meaning should I have?"

"None, of course," he answered, and looked at me broodingly for amoment, as though striving to see behind my words. "However, in thatmatter you are right; I don't want that business all raked over again.For both our sakes, you'd better keep out of the way of Mr. GeorgeRabbit."

There was nothing else to be done, and without any formal words I turnedand walked out of the house by the way I had come. I felt that I hadfinished with Dr. Bardolph Just; I could afford to laugh at him, andcould leave him to settle matters with George Rabbit.

I went back to that hotel near the Charterhouse in which I had leftDebora; there were many things about which I must talk to her. In thefirst place, we had to consider the great question of ways and means;above all, we had to remember—or perhaps I should say thatI had toremember, for she was utterly trustful of me—that she was in my hands,and that I had to be careful of her until such time as I could make hermy wife. I had a sort of feeling that I could not go on in thisindefinite way, leaving her in hotels and such-like places. Besides, Ifelt absolutely certain that the one person to whom in my dilemma I mustapply was my Uncle Zabdiel, for had I not already prepared him for hercoming?

While I had no great faith in Uncle Zabdiel, I yet felt that, from sheerdread of me, he would hesitate before playing tricks. In his eyes I wasa most abandoned villain, capable of anything; he had hanging over himthat threat of mine to kill him—a threat which would remain a threatonly, but a very powerful deterrent if he had any hopes of betraying me.

This scheme I now laid before Debora, telling her the pros and cons ofit all, and trying to induce her to see it as I saw it. There was butone flaw in it, and that was that Martha Leach had been to my uncle, andwould therefore know where he was to be found. Yet, on the other hand, Ifelt that that made for safety, because the very daring of the schemegave it the greatest chance of success. No one would dream that I shouldgo back to the house that had seen the beginning of all my misfortunes,still less would anyone dream of looking for Debora Matchwick there.

"You see, my dearest girl," I pointed out to Debora, "my money won'tlast for ever; already it is dwindling alarmingly. I see no prospect ofgetting any more at present, unless I hold horses, or sell matches inthe street. More than that, I believe that I have my uncle so much undercontrol, and so much in dread of me, that he will do nothing against me;and that great house of his is a very warren of old rooms, in which youcan safely hide. More than that, I think there is a prospect that UncleZabdiel will help me; he seemed to regard me in quite another light whenI saw him recently."

In all this it will be seen, I fear, that my original simplicity had notentirely been knocked out of me by rough contact with the world; it willalso be seen that I had a colossal belief in my own powers ofpersuasion, moral and otherwise. Perhaps also it is scarcely necessaryfor me to say that Debora very willingly believed in me, and seemed toregard my uncle as a man who might be won round to a better belief inthe goodness of human nature. I did not contradict that suggestion, butI had my doubts.

I thought it best, however, to let Uncle Zabdiel know of his intendedvisitor; it would never do to take him by surprise. With many promisesof speedy return I set off then and there for that house near Barnet,wherein so many years of my own life had been passed. I was feelingmore cheerful than I had done for many a long day; I began to realisethat perhaps, after all, my troubles were coming to an end, and somesmall measure of happiness was to be mine. Moreover, despite all mydifficulties, it has to be remembered that I was young and in love; and,I suppose, under those circumstances mere outside troubles sit lightlyon one's shoulders.

I rang at the bell for a long time before anyone answered, and then itwas the grim old woman who came in by the day to look after my uncle whoanswered it. I feared for a moment that she might recognise me, but shewas evidently one of those people to whom the mere duties of the day areeverything; it is probable that had I been the Archbishop of Canterburyin full rig she would have taken no notice of my appearance. I asked forMr. Blowfield, and was left in the dark hall while she went in search ofhim. I gave my name as John New.

In a minute or two she came back, and beckoned to me in a spiritlessway, and without speaking. I went at once by the way I knew so well intomy uncle's room—that room that was half sitting-room and half office,and there discovered him standing before the empty fireplace waiting forme. He was not alone in the room; that unfortunate youth, Andrew Ferkoe,was seated in my old place, at my old desk, scribbling away as if fordear life. Even before my uncle spoke I intercepted a furtive look outof the tail of the youth's eye; I strove to give him a warning glance inresponse.

"Good morning, Mr. New," said my uncle, with a touch of sarcasm in histone. "Glad to see you, I'm sure. Do you object to the presence of myclerk?"

"It is a matter of indifference to me, Mr. Blowfield," I replied. "Ofcourse I should have preferred to have had a private interview with you,but if any words of mine on a previous occasion have made you cautious,by all means let him remain."

I saw that the old man was absolutely afraid of me; I guessed that hemeant to keep Andrew Ferkoe there, to save even a threat of violence. Atthe same time I was relieved to see what I thought was a new and morekindly light in his eyes. I felt that he might, after all, prove to havea heart of flesh and blood, and that Debora might move it.

"Then you can go on with your work, Ferkoe," snapped my uncle; and theboy, whose pen had been straying, started violently, and went on writingagain.

It was curious to note during our interview how frequently AndrewFerkoe's pen stopped, and how his eyes slowly turned round to feast onme, and how, at a movement from his master, he brought the pen back toits proper place and started writing again. I became quite fascinatedwith watching him.

"Sit down, my dear New, sit down," said my uncle smoothly. "Tell me whatI can do for you; I've been expecting to see you."

I sat down, and asked permission to smoke. My uncle grunted in response,and frowned; but I took the grunt for permission, and lighted a cigar.The old man gave a plaintive cough, as though suggesting that this was amartyrdom to which he must submit, and subsided into his own chair. Ianswered his question.

"I promised under threats," he broke in grudgingly. "And a promiseextorted under threats isn't binding."

"This one's got to be," I intimated sharply. "I want the young lady ofwhom I spoke to come here, and to find a refuge in this house; I wanther to come to-day. I have not the means to keep her, and she is indanger of being traced by those who are her enemies. I have chosen you,"I added, with a touch of sarcasm I could not avoid, "because I know yourkindness of heart, and I know how eager you are to do me a service."

He grinned a little maliciously, then chuckled softly, and rubbed hisbony hands together. "Very well, call it a bargain," he said. "Afterall, I'm quite pleased, my dear boy, to be able to help you; if I seemto have a gruff exterior, it's only because I find so many people tryingto get the better of me."

I saw Andrew Ferkoe slowly raise his head, and stare at my uncle with adropping jaw, as though he had suddenly discovered a ghost. My uncle,happening to catch him at it, brought his fist down with a bang upon thedesk that caused the youth to spring an inch or two from his stool, andto resume his writing in such a scared fashion that I am convinced hemust have written anything that first came into his mind.

"And what the devil is it to do with you?" roared my uncle, quite in hisold fashion. "What do you think I pay you for, and feed you for, andgive you comfortable lodging for? One of these days, Ferkoe, I'll turnyou out into the world, and let you starve. Or I'll have you locked up,as I once had a graceless nephew of mine locked up," he added, with acontortion of his face in my direction that I imagine to have beenintended for a wink.

The boy stole a look at me, and essayed a grin on his own account;evidently he congratulated himself on his secret knowledge of who Ireally was. Uncle Zabdiel, having relieved himself with his outburst,now turned to me again, still keeping up that pretty fiction of my beingbut a casual acquaintance, knowing nothing of any graceless nephew whohad been very properly punished in the past.

"He's a thankless dog, this clerk of mine," he growled, with a viciouslook at the boy. "He must have starved but for me, and see what thanks Iget. Well, as I was saying, I shall be very pleased—delighted, infact—to welcome the young lady here. I've got a soft corner in my heartfor everybody, Mr. New, if I'm only treated fairly. I don't like girlsas a rule; I've no place for 'em in my life; but I've made up my mind tomake the best of it. You see, I haven't very long to live—not as longas I should like; and I understand you've got to be so very particularin doing the right sort of thing towards the end. Not that I've doneanything particularly to be ashamed of," he added hastily, "but a greatmany people have made it their business to speak ill of me."

"It is, my dear boy, it is," he replied. "Besides," he went on, loweringhis voice a little, "I've dreamt three nights running that I went upinto my old room, and saw myself lying dead—not dead as youdescribed—but all broken and bloody." He shuddered, and sucked in hisbreath hard for a moment, and glanced behind him.

I did not mind encouraging that thought, because it was all to myadvantage; I knew that unless he remained properly frightened therewould be small chance of his keeping faith with me in the matter ofDebora. Therefore I said nothing now. But once again I saw the youth atthe desk raise his head, and stare at the old man in that startledfashion, and then drop his eyes suddenly to his work.

"Not a pleasant dream—not a pleasant dream, by any means," muttered myuncle, getting up and striding about. "I lay on the floor, with the bedclothes pulled across me, as if to hide me. And I was all broken andbloody!"

"Why, what do you mean?" he whispered in a panic, as he stopped andlooked round at me.

"Oh! they say if you dream a thing three times, it's bound to cometrue," I said.

"Stuff and nonsense!" he ejaculated. "Dreams go always by contraries;everybody knows that. I shouldn't have mentioned the thing, only I can'tsomehow get it out of my head. It was just as though I were anotherperson; I stood there looking down at myself. There, there, let's forgetit. In all probability, if I do this thing for you, out of pure kindnessof heart, I shall live quite a long time, and die naturally a good manyyears hence. Now, when is the young lady coming?"

He seemed so perturbed by the recollection of his dream that he listenedonly in a dazed fashion while I told him that I intended to bring herthere that day; he might expect her some time that evening. AndrewFerkoe seemed interested at the news that anyone was coming to thatdreary house; he kept on glancing up at me while I spoke. And it wasnecessary, too, for me to say all over again, because my uncle hadevidently not been listening.

"Yes, yes, yes, I understand!" he said, rousing himself at last."Besides, it'll be better to have someone else in the house—safer forme, you understand. Nobody will dare come to the place if they know thatI'm not a lonely old man, with only a fool of a boy in the house withhim—a boy that you can't wake for love or money."

I suppressed a grin. My experience of Andrew Ferkoe had been that hewoke rather too easily. I rose to take my leave, and Uncle Zabdiel, inhis anxiety to please me, came out into the hall with me, and seemedinclined to detain me even longer.

"I'll be very good to her," he said; then, suddenly breaking off, hegripped my arm, and pointed up the dark, uncarpeted stairs behind us."You remember my old room," he whispered. "Well, I saw the room, andeverything in it, quite clearly, three separate times, and I lyingthere——"

"You're thinking too much about it," I broke in hastily. For his facewas ghastly. "You be kind to Debora, and you'll find she'll soon laughsome of your fears out of you. Good-bye for the present; you'll see usboth later in the day."

He shook my hand quite earnestly, and let me out of the house. I sawhim, as I had seen him before, standing in the doorway, peering out atme; in that moment I felt a little sorry for him. So much he hadmissed—so much he had lost or never known; and now, towards the end ofhis days, he was racked by fears of that death that he knew must beapproaching rapidly.

I started back for London, meaning to fetch Debora to my uncle's housethat night. I was fortunate enough not to have to wait long at thestation for a train, and I presently found myself in an emptycompartment. I was tired out, and excited with the events of the day. Isettled myself in a corner, and closed my eyes, as the train sped on itsway. And presently, while I sat there, I became aware of a mostextraordinary commotion going on in the compartment on the other side ofthe partition against which I leaned. There was a noise as of thestamping of feet, and shouts and cries—altogether a hideous uproar.

I thought at first that it must be some drunken men, uproarious after adebauch; but I presently came to the conclusion that some severestruggle was going on in the next compartment; I distinctly heard criesfor help. I leaned out of the window, in the hope that I might be ableto see into the next carriage; then, on an impulse, I opened the door,and got out on to the footboard. It was not a difficult matter, becausethe train was travelling comparatively slow. I closed the door of thecompartment I had been in, and stepped along the footboard to the next.Clinging on there, I looked in, and beheld an extraordinary sight.

Two men were battling fiercely in the carriage; and I saw that thefurther door of the carriage was open. As the men wrenched and tugged ateach other, I could not for a moment or two see their faces; but I couldmake out clearly that the smaller man of the two was working strenuouslyto force the other man out on to the line through the open door. I saw,too, that the bigger man appeared to be using only one arm to defendhimself; and it was suddenly borne in upon me that I knew with certaintywho the two men were. I tore open the door on my side, and slipped intothe carriage, and shut the door again. Then I flung myself upon thesmaller man, who was no other than William Capper.

As it happened, I was only just in time. The other man had been drivento the open door, until he was absolutely half in and half out; he haddug his nails into the cushions on one side, in a desperate effort tosave himself from falling. And as I pulled Capper off, and flung him tothe other end of the carriage, I naturally pulled his intended victimwith him—and that intended victim was Dr. Bardolph Just!

How narrow his escape had been was brought home to me the next moment,when, as I leaned out to close the door, another train tore past on thenext track, going in the opposite direction. I banged the door, andstood against it, and looked at the two men.

The doctor had sunk down into a corner, and was nursing his wounded arm,and staring in a frightened way at Capper. Capper, I noticed, hadsuddenly lost all his frenzy, precisely in the same fashion as he hadlost it on that other occasion when he had attacked the same man. He nowsat in the corner into which I had flung him, with his head bowed, andhis hands plucking at his lips, exactly in the attitude of a naughty boywho had been caught in some wickedness and stopped. He glanced at mefurtively, but said nothing.

"He—he tried—tried to kill me!" panted the doctor. "He tried—tried tothrow me out of the train! You saw for yourself!"

"Nothing—absolutely nothing!" he stammered, striving to rearrange hisdress and to smooth his hair. "He suddenly said something—and thenopened the door—and sprang at me."

"But what did he say?" I insisted. And it was curious that we both spokeof the man at the other end of the carriage as someone not responsiblefor what he had done.

"Never mind what he said!" exclaimed the doctor pettishly. "You justcame in time. He'd have had me out in another moment."

In the surprise of his escape, the doctor did not seem astonished atfinding me there so opportunely he merely looked at the dejected Capperin that frightened way, and kept the greatest possible distance fromhim.

"I don't take him about!" he exclaimed. "He follows me. I can't get ridof him. He sticks to my heels like a dog. I don't like it; one of thesedays it may happen that there's no one there in time—and that'll be theend of the matter." All this in a whisper, as he leaned forward towardswhere I sat.

"Don't I tell you I can't," he snapped at me. "Besides, I don't want tolose sight of him; I'm sorry for the poor old fellow. He'd only driftinto some madhouse or workhouse infirmary. I don't know what to do."

The doctor was dabbling nervously at his forehead with a handkerchief;he was in a very sweat of terror. And at the further end of thecarriage—huddled up there, listening—sat the little grey-haired man,like some grim Fate that must dog the steps of the other man to an endwhich no one could see. A sudden ghastly theory had entered into mymind; I determined to probe the matter a little further.

"You suggest," I said in a whisper, "that he has twice tried to killyou; surely it is an easy matter to give him into the hands of thepolice? If he's insane, he'll be properly looked after; if he is not, hewill be properly punished. And you will be safe."

Bardolph Just looked out of the window, and slowly shook his head. "Youdon't understand; I can't do that," he replied. "I can't explain;there's a reason."

We left the matter at that, and presently, when the train drew into theLondon station, we all got out. The doctor and I walked away side byside, and I knew that Capper was following. I knew something else,too—that I must get away as quickly as possible, back to Debora. For Irealised that as yet the doctor had not been informed that Debora wasmissing from Green Barn.

"Well, you don't want me any more," I said to him, stopping and turningabout. "I'll take my leave."

"Look here!" he exclaimed, suddenly seizing me with his uninjured hand,and giving a sideways glance at Capper, "I'll forget everything andforgive everything if you'll only stick to me. I don't want to be leftalone with this man."

"I have work of my own to do," I answered him, "and my way is not yourway. Pull yourself together, man; you're in London, among crowds. Whatharm can a feeble old creature like that do to you?"

"You've seen for yourself—twice," he whispered. "I'll do anything youlike—pay you anything you like!"

I shook myself free. "It's impossible," I said; and a moment later I waswalking rapidly away; I had no desire that the doctor should follow me.

Looking back, I saw the man with his arm in a sling going at a greatrate across the station, and as he went he glanced back over hisshoulder. And always behind him, going at a little trot to keep up withhim, went William Capper, not to be shaken off.

I found Debora awaiting me, but I said nothing to her of my startlingencounter in the train. I only told her that all was ready for herreception at the house of Uncle Zabdiel, and we set off at once, aftersettling the score at the hotel. Our journey was without incident, andin due course I rang the bell at my uncle's gate, and saw the door openpresently to receive the girl. I went in with her for the necessaryintroductions.

To my delight I found Uncle Zabdiel rubbing his hands, and evidentlypleased to have her there. He went so far as to imprint a cold salute onher cheek, and even to touch her under her soft rounded chin with hisbony finger.

"It's a pretty bird you've captured," he said, grimacing at me. "I'lltake care of her, never fear."

I thanked him, and then told him of my intention to seek a lodgingelsewhere. He seemed surprised, as did Debora. I merely told him that Ihad business to attend to, and that I could not very well be so far fromLondon for the next few days at least. My real reason was, however, avery different one.

I had made up my mind to pursue this matter of Capper to the very end;the thing fascinated me, and I could not let it alone. So that, after Ihad seen the dark house swallow up my darling, I went off, designing tofind a lodging for myself between that house and the one in whichBardolph Just lived. It was very late, but I was not over particular asto where I slept, and I knew that I could easily find a room.

But I was restless, and had many things to think about; so that it endedfinally in my walking that long distance back to the doctor's house, andfinding myself, something to my surprise, outside its gates at a littleafter two o'clock in the morning. All the house was silent, and thewindows darkened. I was turning away, when I almost stumbled oversomeone sitting on the high bank at the side of the road opposite thegate. As I drew back with a muttered apology the man looked up, and Iknew him.

It was William Capper. In the very instant of his raising his head I hadseen a quick bright look of intelligence come over his face, but now themask he habitually wore seemed to be drawn down over his features, andhe smiled in that vacuous way I had before noted.

"He's turned me out," he said, in the old feeble voice. "I don't knowwhy." I saw his plucking fingers go up to his lips again, as he feeblyshook his head.

"Yes, you do," I said sternly. "Come, Capper, you've nothing to fearfrom me; why don't you speak the truth? You've twice tried to kill theman. What is your reason?"

He shook his head, and smiled at me in the same vacant fashion. "I don'tknow—I don't understand," he said. "So much that I've forgotten—somuch that I can't remember, and never shall remember. Somethingsnapped—here."

He touched his forehead, and shook his head in that forlorn way; andpresently sank down on the bank again, and put his head in his hands,and seemed to go to sleep.

When I came away at last, in despair of finding out anything from him,he was sitting in the same attitude, and might have appeared, to anycasual observer, as a poor, feeble old creature with a clouded mind. YetI knew with certainty that something had happened to the man, and thathe was alive and alert; I knew, too, that grimly enough, and for somereason unknown to me, he had set out to kill Dr. Bardolph Just. And Iknew that he would succeed.

CHAPTER XII.

AN APPOINTMENT WITH DEATH.

It will readily be understood that, by the movements of the variousplayers in the game in which, in a sense, I was merely a pawn, I hadbeen placed in such a position that I was to an extent no longer masterof my own actions. I had been compelled, by the turn of events, to placeDebora in the hands of my uncle, and I knew that at any moment now newsmight come from Green Barn that the girl was gone. I marvelled that thatnews had not arrived ere this.

Upon that latter point the only conjecture I could arrive at was thatthe woman Martha Leach had not yet dared to send her news to BardolphJust, and in that act of cowardice she would probably be supported byHarvey Scoffold. Moreover, I knew that the doctor was too fully occupiedwith his own fears concerning the man Capper to give much attention toanything else.

Nor, on the other hand, did I feel that I had advanced matters asrapidly as I could have wished. True, I had got Debora out of the handsof the doctor and Harvey Scoffold; true again, I had hidden her in thehouse of Uncle Zabdiel. But there the matter stood, and I was relying,in a sense, solely on the help of one whom every instinct taught me todistrust: I mean, of course, Zabdiel Blowfield. Moreover, I was nofurther advanced in regard to any future status on my own account. I hadno prospect of making my way in the world, or of doing anything to helpthe girl I loved. It seemed as though I stood in the midst of a greattangle, twisting this way and that in my efforts to free myself, andgetting more hopelessly involved with each movement.

In my doubts and perplexities I turned naturally to Debora; I may besaid to have haunted that house wherein she lived. Uncle Zabdielappeared to be very friendly, and for two days I came and went as Iliked, seeing Debora often. And even in that short time I came to seethat the deadly old house was having its effect upon the girl, just asit had upon every one that came within its walls; she began to droop,and to wear a frightened look, and not all my reassurances would bringany brightness into her eyes.

"I'm afraid of the place," she whispered the second day, clinging to me."That tall boy creeps about like a ghost——"

"And looks like one," I broke in with a laugh. "He's the best fellow inthe world, is Andrew Ferkoe; you've nothing to fear from him."

"And Mr. Blowfield: he looks at me so strangely, and is altogether soqueer," went on Debora. "Last night he begged me to sit up with him inhis study until quite late—kept on asking me if I didn't hear thisnoise and that, and was I sure that nothing stirred in the shadows inthe corner? I felt at last as if I should go mad if I wasn't allowed toscream."

"My darling girl, it won't be very long now before I'm able to take youaway," I said, more hopefully than I felt. "My uncle's a good fellow, inhis way, but he has lived a lonely life so long that he's not like othermen. Have a little more patience, Debora dear; the sun will shine uponus both before long, and we shall come out of the shadows."

"But there is something else," she said. "I was in my room last night,at the top of the house here, sitting in the dark, thinking. Everythingwas very silent; it was as if all the world lay asleep. And then I saw acurious thing—something that frightened me."

"On the other side of the road facing the house is a long wall," shebegan in a whisper, "and just outside the gate, as you know, is alamp-post. From where I sat in my window I could see that the wall waslit up, and across it again and again, while I watched for more than anhour, went two shadows."

"What sort of shadows?" I asked, as lightly as I could; yet I'll own Iwas startled.

"Shadows of men," she replied. "It was evident that they were walking upand down in the road, watching the house. The shadows were curious,because one was a very big one, walking stiffly, while the other wassmall, and seemed to creep along behind the first. And I know whose theshadows were—at least, I know one of them."

"I know the one man was Dr. Just," she answered me confidently, with alittle quick nod.

"Because the man walked with an easy stride, and yet his shadow showedonly one arm swinging," she said. "Don't you see what I mean? The otherarm was fastened to him in some way, held close against him."

I whistled softly, and looked into her eyes. "I see," I said; "thatwould be the sling. Now, what in the world has brought him here?"

"He's come to find you," said Debora quickly. "He will have heard fromGreen Barn that I am gone, and that you are gone; he will guess that ifhe finds you he may find me. The reason for his waiting outside would bethat he might intercept you going in or coming out."

"There's something in that," I admitted. "However, of one thing I amcertain in my own mind. Uncle Zabdiel won't give you up, nor will headmit the man into the house if he can avoid it. I'm not taking anystand by Uncle Zabdiel's integrity," I added. "I am only certain that hehas a wholesome dread of me, and will not offend me. Rest easy; nothingwill happen to you, my darling."

Just before my departure I was met by my uncle at the door of his study.He mysteriously beckoned me in, and closed the door. Then, something tomy surprise, he buttonholed me, and pulled me further into the room, andstared up into my face with a pathetic expression of entreaty in hiseyes.

"My dear boy—my only nephew—I want you to believe that I'm beinghonest with you as far as I can; I don't want you to judge me hastily,"he began. "People get such wrong notions in their heads, and you mighthear something that would bring you rushing back here, and would leaveme no time for explanation. Will you believe what I'm going to tellyou?"

He was fumbling me all over. I saw that he had been troubled bysomething, and that his dread of me had been strongly revived. I wasplaying for too great a stake then to make the blunder of being smoothwith him. I frowned and folded my arms, and looked down at him sternly.

"There, now you're beginning to lose your temper before ever I've begunto say a word," he said, backing away from me. "Do be reasonable!"

"Well, to put it briefly, that woman Leach has been here." He blurtedout the words, and stood looking at me as though wondering how I shouldtake the news.

"Everything you would have wished me to do," he replied quickly. "I toldher nothing; I sent her away again."

"About you first, and then about Debora," he whispered. "But, oh, I puther off the scent. I was sharp with her. I asked what sort of man shetook me to be, to admit any minx to my house. And she went away, knowingnothing."

"That's good, and I'm very grateful to you," I assured him, now feelingthat I could give him all my confidence. "They'll leave no stoneunturned to get hold of the girl."

"Yes, the woman as well as her master. I have just heard that Dr. Justhas been seen hanging about outside the house late last night, withanother man."

I saw his face blanch, I saw him moisten his lips with his tongue andclutch with one feeble hand at the back of his chair. I took noparticular notice of that, although long after I wished I had done; Iknew how easily startled he was.

"You say that two men—two men watched this house last night, verylate?" he muttered.

"Yes," I answered carelessly. "And one of them at least—this BardolphJust—will stick at nothing to get what he wants. He's of the sort thatsnaps his fingers at a small matter of death."

My Uncle Zabdiel twisted the chair round with a nervous movement, andsank into it. I saw that he was trembling from head to foot. He seemedto be brooding heavily upon something. Looking at him, I caught his eyesmore than once wandering covertly in my direction.

"There is not only the girl to be considered by him, but the very largefortune which belongs to her, and which he also wishes to get hold of. Itell you he will stick at nothing," I assured him earnestly.

"By the way, Uncle Zabdiel, have you been troubled with that dream ofyours again?" I asked carelessly.

To my surprise he started to his feet with what was almost a cry. "No,no! why should I dream that again?" he stammered, staring at me."Haven't I tried to forget it—haven't I persuaded myself that I hadforgotten it. Oh, dear God! that these things should be sent to troublea poor old man who has done his best always for everybody!" he moaned."There, there—go away; leave me alone! I want time to think—or rathertime not to think."

I went away and left him, closing the door after me. Just as I reachedthe hall door I came upon that tall youth, Andrew Ferkoe. He grinnedamiably. A sudden thought occurring to me, I drew him aside, andwhispered to him—

"Rather!" he said. "You're so wonderful; you've seen such things, anddone such things."

"Never mind about that," I said hastily. "I want you to promise to cometo me, if you think Miss Matchwick is in any danger, or if you thinkanyone is plotting against her. See, here is my address"—I scribbledit on a scrap of paper and thrust it into his hands—"and I shall relyupon you to be faithful, to her as well as to me. Will you?"

He seemed quite elated at his commission. "Do you really trust me?" heasked gleefully. "I'd do anything for you, and for her. I feel somehowthat I'm getting braver and stronger. I shan't put up much longer withold Blowfield's bullying. I feel sometimes when I look at him that Icould do murder!"

I laughed as I went out of the house. The idea of this weak-kneed, lankyyouth, of all others, "doing murder" seemed too ridiculous. I went on myway feeling pretty well satisfied with the turn of events, and firmlyconvinced that the very fears under which Uncle Zabdiel laboured werethe greatest safeguard Debora and I could have. Moreover, I had gainedone other friend in that strange house, and that was Andrew Ferkoe.

My lodging was in a little house not very far, as you may have guessed,from that house belonging to Uncle Zabdiel in which Debora had soopportunely found shelter. On this particular evening I was in no hurryto retire to the one little room I had rented. On a sudden impulse Imade up my mind that I would linger a little while in the neighbourhood,and would see, if possible, for myself whether or not those two shadowson the wall really belonged to the doctor and to William Capper. So Itook up my station not very far from the house, but in a position fromwhich I could observe it easily; and there I waited.

I will not describe my long wait, nor the shadows I saw, which mighthave been the shadows of the doctor and Capper, but which were not. Iwas disappointed fifty times at least, felt my heart jump as many timeswhen two men, or even one man, came anywhere in my direction, orhappened by the merest chance to glance towards that house. I had notfully made up my mind what to do should either man put in an appearance,and indeed I was saved the trouble of putting into execution any plan Imight have evolved, by reason of the fact that no one I knew came nearthe house.

Once, it is true, from where I watched, I saw an upper window open, andthe head of Uncle Zabdiel, like some extremely ugly gargoyle, obtrudeitself into the night. I guessed, with an inward chuckle, that he mightbe looking for those shadows for which I also was on the watch. But soonafterwards that window was closed, and the house was wrapped in silenceand darkness. I kept my vigil until something towards three in themorning, and then went off to my lodging. In five minutes I wasundressed and in bed; the rest was a dreamless sleep.

Lest I should be watched, I determined that I would not go near ZabdielBlowfield's house in daylight, or without taking due precautions. Ithought it possible that the woman Martha Leach might make a furtherattempt, for the sake of her master, to discover something about me orabout Debora. I determined that I would not play into their hands. Iremembered what Bardolph Just had said about going abroad; I had greathopes that he might carry that into effect, and so rid us all of hispresence. Perhaps in a saner moment I reflected that he was scarcely thetype of man to give up the game so lightly; but then when one is in loveone is usually optimistic. However, there was nothing for it but towait, and to possess my soul in patience.

I was taking things very easily indeed that evening, lounging in thewindow of my room, and smoking, and looking at the early stars that werepeeping out above me, when I became aware of a strange-looking figurecoming slowly up the deserted little street. Without troubling very muchabout it, I became interested in the figure, which was that of a tall,ungainly young man, whose face and head, from my elevated position, werehidden by a hat which appeared to be many sizes too large for him. Hewas craning his neck this way and that, apparently looking for someparticular house; every now and then he referred to a scrap of paperwhich he held in his fingers. I was watching him idly, when all at onceI woke from my half-dream and started to my feet; with my hands leaningon the window-sill I stared down at him intently.

At that same moment he happened to look up towards me and I recognisedhim. It was Andrew Ferkoe. I waved my hand, and nodded to him, and withevery extravagant sign of precaution he looked to right and to left, andthen came to the door of the house. I ran down and admitted him myself;then I took him up to my room before permitting him to say a word. Oncein the room, with the door shut, I saw to my horror that he was shakingfrom head to foot, and was alternately slapping his breast, and strivingto get some words out.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "Take your time about it; there's nothingto get excited about."

He gasped again in that inarticulate fashion once or twice; then heblurted out his message.

I pushed him into a chair and stood over him, with my hands on my hips,striving by my own steadiness to put some steadiness into him. For atime he only moaned, and shook his head and gaped at me, but at last, bydint of threats and even some coaxing, I got his story out of him.

"Early this morning old Blowfield sent me with a telegram addressed to aDr. Just; it was written out on a piece of paper, and I had to copy itat the post-office. It was addressed to Dr. Just at a house inHighgate.

"I'm coming to it as fast as I can," said Andrew Ferkoe resentfully."You forget I ain't used to this sort of thing. It simply said, 'Come atonce; can give you news of the runaway,' and it was signed 'Z.Blowfield,' with the address."

I strangled an oath in my throat; I vowed that Uncle Zabdiel should paydearly for his treachery. "And what happened after that?" I demanded.

"About mid-day a tall, dark man drove up in a great hurry and asked forold Blowfield—at least, he asked for Mr. Blowfield," went on Ferkoe. "Iwas turned out of the room, but they talked together for a long time.Then the bell was rung, and I was told to go and find the young lady,and tell her she was wanted. After she'd gone into the room I did whatI'd never done before," he added with a chuckle. "I listened outside."

He went on again, seemingly elated at my praise of him. "They kept ontalking, all three of them, and I heard the young lady say over and overagain, 'I won't! I won't!' and the dark man kept on threatening, andsaying what he would do, and old Blowfield kept on telling her that itwas for the best, and that she'd better go back, though I don't know inthe least where he meant her to go. The door was open just the leastlittle bit, and I saw and heard everything, because old Blowfield wouldnever dream that I should dare to do a thing like that."

"You're very slow!" I cried impatiently. "Tell me what happened then;what did the young lady do? Did she refuse to leave the house?"

"Yes, she kept on saying she wouldn't. And I'm being as fast as I can,only there's such a lot to tell. I should get on faster if you weren'tso impatient."

I subdued my wrath as best I could. I decided to let him go on in hisown fashion.

"And then the funniest thing happened," he said, sitting upright in hischair in his excitement, and staring at me round-eyed. "The darkman—Dr. Just, I suppose—began to spread out his hands—like this"—hemade a curious fluttering movement with his hands before my face, sogrotesque a movement that I should have laughed under any othercircumstances—"and began to talk in a very low, smooth voice to theyoung lady. At first she cried out to him to keep away from her, andcovered up her face with her hands, but after a time she dropped thehands and stared at him. I saw her drop down into a chair and shut hereyes. He never left off talking; he seemed to be telling her somethingshe was to do. He spoke so softly that I couldn't catch everything, buthe said something about a carriage, and about four o'clock in theafternoon. Then suddenly he clapped his hands, and she jumped up, andlooked at him as if she was frightened."

"You dolt!" I shouted, shaking him. "This devilish business happened atmid-day, and here's night, and you've only just arrived to tell thetale."

"It wasn't my fault," he whimpered. "You ought to know what that houseis like; I'm watched every minute. I tried over and over again to slipout, and couldn't; I only managed it, as it was, after it got dark. I'vedone my best."

"I beg your pardon," I said penitently. "I'm quite sure you have. Nowtell me what else happened."

"Dr. Just went away, and the young lady went off to her room. I wentback to work, and old Blowfield kept on walking up and down the room,and muttering to himself. Once he stopped, in order to ask me about you.He wanted to know if I'd seen you."

"He said if you came near the house I wasn't to let you in; I was to gofor the police, or do something else to keep you away. Above all, I wasto give him warning, so that he could lock himself in somewhere."

I laughed grimly. I knew that I had already secured the allegiance ofthis poor warder, and could get at my man when I wanted to do so. Iurged him to go on with his tale.

"Then, just as four o'clock was striking, and I was working, oldBlowfield gave me an awful fright; he suddenly put his hand on myshoulder and whispered in my ear. 'Do you hear that?' he said; and Iwondered what he meant. And then I heard someone coming downstairs,singing as they came."

I could scarcely contain myself, but I determined I would wait for theend. In his excitement Andrew Ferkoe had risen to his feet, and wasstaring at me in the wildest fashion.

"Old Blowfield went to the door and opened it, and I had a look out,too. And there was the young lady," he went on, lowering his voice,"going along the hall, and taking not the slightest notice of anybody.She opened the door, and left it open; she walked across the garden; sheopened the gate, and left that open. Old Blowfield and me walked afterher, never so much as saying a word. There was a carriage waiting at thegate, and she got into it and shut the door; then the carriage droveaway. And all the time she had never said a word. Old Blowfield laughed,and shut the door, and went back to his room, and I went back too. Andthat's the end of it."

I sank down into a chair, and hid my face in my hands, and gave myselfup to my own bitter thoughts. What power had I against such arts asthese? What could I do, when a man could so steal the very soul out of awoman and make her do his bidding in this fashion? What might not havehappened in all these hours during which I, drugged into a falsesecurity, had stayed in this place, doing nothing but dream dreams? Isprang to my feet at last, for I felt that this was no time for idledreaming. The time had come for action, and I would step now into thematter, with no thought for myself, or for what might happen to me. Itmust be Debora first, and Debora always; I would save her, if I dippedmy hands in blood to do it.

"I don't know yet," I answered him. "It depends on whether I can getwhat I want by peaceful means; I'm going to try that first. After that,I'm going to surprise certain friends of ours—give them such ashaking-up as they'll remember to the end of their days."

"And what are you going to do to old Blowfield?" he asked; and I thoughtI saw in his face that he would relish anything that might happen to hismaster.

"What I'm going to do to old Blowfield, as you call him, won't bearthinking about," I said. "Now, I don't want you to get into trouble;you'd better cut off. I'm very grateful to you; I'm sorry if I seemedimpatient. Good-night!"

He gripped my hand, and went downstairs. I followed him and let him outinto the silent street; saw him flutter off round the corner like along, awkward ghost. Then I closed the door and went upstairs again.

I own I was puzzled what to do. My own crude methods had failedhitherto; I must, if possible, meet subtlety with subtlety. Of what usewas it for me to induce Debora to come willingly to me, if all my planscould be upset in a moment by Dr. Just, as they had been this day? Yet Iknew that I must first go to that house in which she was imprisoned; mybusiness with Zabdiel Blowfield could wait, I told myself fiercely.

I got a tram down to Highgate, cursing its slowness all the way; and soat last stood outside the house, not having yet made up my mind what todo. I opened the gate cautiously, and went into the grounds. I saw thatthe house, so far as the front, at least, was concerned, was indarkness. I knew that it would be madness to attempt to obtainadmittance in the usual fashion; I determined to break into the house,as I had done once before.

I was on the very point of selecting my window, when I heard a rustlingamong the leaves close to me; I drew back and waited. There came intosight out of the shadows William Capper; but not the William Capper Iseemed to have known. For this man stood alert and ready, and the face Isaw in the light of the stars was the keen, watchful face I hadsurprised before. He seemed to be waiting for something; he, too, waswatching the house. Determined to put the matter to the test, I steppedout quickly from my hiding-place and confronted him.

The instant change in the man was surprising; but this time it did notdeceive me. I gripped the now drooping figure by the shoulder and shookhim. He looked up at me with that vacant smile on his face, but saidnothing.

"What's the game, Capper?" I asked quickly in a whisper. "Why are youpretending you don't understand things, and can't remember things? Ihate this man Just, quite as much as you do; why won't you confide inme?"

For a moment I thought he was going to do so; he kept very still undermy grip, and I knew that he was thinking the matter over carefully. Itwas almost as though I could see into his mind. But a moment later heseemed to come to some resolution; he looked up quickly, and shook hishead, with that lost look again in his eyes.

"Yes, you do," I retorted roughly. "You're as sane as I am; and you'vegot some purpose in your mind—and I can guess what it is."

"You frighten me, sir," he said in a whisper. "I am old and feeble, andI have forgotten so many things. Please let me alone."

He did it so well, that for a moment I believed that I had not seen thatchange in him; at all events, I saw that I could do nothing with him,and I watched him as he drifted away among the trees and was lost to mysight. Then I turned my attention to the house.

But I found that every door and every window was strongly fastened andshuttered; evidently they had been expecting a visit from me. I hadnothing with which I could effect an entrance, so that I merely ragedround the place, in a futile fashion, in the darkness, wondering what Ishould do. Every now and then I thought I caught sight of the manCapper, dodging about in the shadows; but even of that I could not besure. At last, in desperation, I went to the big hall-door and boldlyrang the bell.

I waited for a long time, while I heard slight movements within thehouse; then there was a whispering behind the closed door. I had made upmy mind that the moment that door was opened I would force my way in, atwhatever risk. I prepared to rush the citadel now, by drawing back alittle, where no light could reach me as the door was opened, so that Icould force anyone who had answered my ringing to peer out. While Iwaited, I was certain that I saw Capper waiting, too, a few yards away.

My ruse succeeded. The door was opened a little way, and the voice ofMartha Leach demanded to know who was there; then there was morewhispering, and the door was opened a little further, and Martha Leachstepped out under the porch. I made one leap at her, and caught her inmy arms; and before she quite knew what was happening, had literallyrolled with her into the hall, keeping a tight clutch of her. In theconfusion someone slammed the door, and I put my back against it.

I saw that it would be a matter of three to one, at the least, eventhough one of the three was partly disabled. The doctor had backed awayas he saw us come flying in, and I think it must have been HarveyScoffold who shut the door. I blurted out at once what I had to say.

"There's a young lady here—Miss Matchwick—detained against her will.Where is she?"

"Turn that fellow out!" shouted the doctor. "Two of you ought to be ableto manage him, I should think. Turn him out!"

Now, it is a most undignified thing to be tackled by a woman; yet I ambound to confess that in the rough and tumble that ensued, Martha Leachdid more than her full share. Bardolph Just had run back into the house,and had set a bell ringing; a couple of men-servants came rushing up. Idid not want to hit the woman; but I longed for one blow at HarveyScoffold, and as a matter of fact I contrived to get one or two reallyserviceable ones in on his rotund person. But by this time, while wewere all scrambling about together, and while I was raising my voice inrepeated shouts of "Debora," in the hope that I might attract herattention, the woman had literally wound herself about me, so that Iwas powerless. The door was pulled open, and this time we tumbled outinstead of in. And as Martha dexterously released me only when I wasoutside, and contrived to trip me up very neatly down the steps, she wasinside again, and the door closed, before I could get to my feet. Then Iheard the bolts shooting into place, and knew that the victory was withthem.

I had a mind to set the bell ringing again, in the hope to force them toopen the door. But I had the good sense to understand that I shouldserve no good purpose in that way; I should, in all probability, bringsome night policeman down upon me, when explanations would be difficult.For after all, on the face of it, you cannot very well demand that ayoung lady shall be fetched out at night from the house of ahighly-respectable guardian by a stranger who can give no really goodaccount of himself. And that, as you will acknowledge, was exactly theposition of affairs.

Baffled, I went away again, and was fortunate enough to be able to getback to Barnet in the same fashion as before. You may imagine my frameof mind by the time I got to Uncle Zabdiel's house; I was in a state ofungovernable fury. I marched into the garden, and rang the bellviolently, and waited. After a minute or two, during which I hadrepeated the summons, I heard a window raised above me, and, looking up,saw Uncle Zabdiel's wicked old head looking out. All about me was veryquiet, for the house stood somewhat retired from an unfrequented road,and I could hear his voice distinctly.

"I want to come in," I said, stepping back a little from the door sothat he could see me. "You know me, Uncle Zabdiel."

"I should think I do," he sneered. "Do you think I should be foolenough to let you in—you wild beast!—you bully!—I've too great a carefor my own safety for that."

"I won't—I won't!" he almost shouted. "I mean to protect myself. AndI'll tell you something else, my young friend," he went on, leaningfurther out of the window, and shaking a fist at me. "I've made up mymind to see you comfortably put away again."

"I've written to the authorities, telling them that if they come hereto-morrow night I can give them a full and true account of a certainconvict called Norton Hyde, supposed to be buried in Penthouse Prison,but really very much alive. Put that in your pipe and smoke it! I'vecooked your goose, my boy, and I shall sleep peaceful o' nights infuture."

He slammed down the window, leaving me standing in the darkness,thinking long thoughts. I saw that it was as hopeless for me to get inhere as it had proved to be at the house of Bardolph Just; I wentsorrowfully out of the gate, realising that all was over. As I turnedinto the road, I almost cannoned against a man who seemed to be loungingthere. He turned away his face quickly, and although for a moment I hada feeling that it was a face that was familiar to me, the thought merelyflitted through my mind for a moment, and was gone as the man lurchedaway. I saw that he was dressed roughly, like a labouring man.

You may be sure that I did not sleep that night. I paced my room,wondering what I should do; I varied that only by seating myself at thewindow, and staring out at the sky, telling myself over and over againthat all I had striven to do had come to naught. To-morrow the truestory would be told to the world; to-morrow Norton Hyde would be ahunted man again, with three or four people interested in his capture,who would know all his movements, and could supply a dozen clues towardsfinding him. It was impossible for me to do anything to help Debora,because Bardolph Just's house would be one of the first places to bewatched, if it came to a hunt for me. I was done.

And then it was that I came to a desperate resolution. I was homelessand hopeless, and I had failed; I determined that I would keep theappointment that night, and would meet those who were to see my uncle. Iwould give myself up to the authorities, and so end the miserablebusiness by going back to my prison. There was nothing else for it; Ifelt that it was far better to close the matter once and for all time.

I got to Uncle Zabdiel's house after darkness had set in. Just as Iturned into the road leading to it, I saw two men, respectably dressedin dark clothing, and with bowler hats, going along in front of me; myheart gave a little jump, for I thought I knew their errand. They cameto the gate in the wall and opened it. I had determined by this timethat I would waste no time, and so I came up with them as they passedinto the garden. One of them turned and looked at me.

"I've come to see Mr. Blowfield," I replied; for I had made up my mindto see the matter out in my uncle's presence.

The man said nothing, but joined his companion, who was standing beforethe door of the house, and who had just rung the bell. There was noanswer to the summons, and after a time he tugged at the bell-pullagain. In moving to do this he made a discovery.

"Why, the door's open," he murmured; then he pushed it, and stepped intothe dark hall.

The first man lifted his voice, and called out sharply, "Mr. Blowfield!Mr. Blowfield!"

His voice echoed in a dreary fashion through the house, and seemed tocome back at us. The first man had by this time touched a shelf whichstood in the hall, and on which was a lamp. Looking about him sharplywhile he did so, he dexterously got a light and lit the lamp; then, witha glance at his companion, he stepped into the room which was thedining-room. It was empty.

I followed them from that room into the study, which again was empty.Then the first man, still carrying the lamp, after muttering somethingto his companion which I did not hear, began to ascend the stairs. I wasthe last of the trio, and I suddenly heard the first man cry out in anexcited voice.

"Here, catch hold of this!" he exclaimed, passing the lamp down to theother man. "There's been an accident!"

I pressed forward then, and looked. Lying prone upon the staircase, withhis head and shoulders hanging down over the top stairs, lay UncleZabdiel. Beside him was a heavy stick—that stick with which he had oncethreatened me—and his head and face were cruelly beaten in. Whoever hadkilled him had not been able to bear the sight of him afterwards, forthe clothes from his bed had been dragged out of the room and pulledacross him.

CHAPTER XIII.

"THAT'S THE MAN!"

Half-a-dozen surmises seemed to rush through my mind at that first sightof Uncle Zabdiel lying dead. The first—that he had tried to drive toohard a bargain with Bardolph Just, and had been caught in his own net;the next, that that badly-used youth, Andrew Ferkoe, had turned at lastand killed his oppressor. I thought, too, that perhaps some poorcreature he had driven to desperation, and ground hard in his moneymill, had chosen this way to pay his debts.

One of the men ran off in what I thought was an absurd search for adoctor; the other stood waiting, and keeping, as I thought, a watchfuleye upon me. In truth, I was not altogether comfortable, for althoughUncle Zabdiel's lips were for ever sealed, I thought it possible that hemight have made the bare statement that his supposedly-dead nephew wasalive, in writing to the authorities. In which case, it might go hardwith me that I should be seen in the neighbourhood of the house in whichhe had been so recently killed, and that house, too, with its front dooropen. The man had set down the lamp upon the landing, where it lightedup the dead man horribly; he now began to put a few questions to me.

"Yes, I had," I answered. "An appointment on a matter of business. I wascoming to the house, when I saw you and the other man on your way here.May I ask who you are?" For I thought it better to pretend ignorance,although I knew well that these must be the men for whom Uncle Zabdielhad sent.

"We are police officers," said the man, "andwe had an appointmentwith Mr. Blowfield for this evening. It seems a pity that we were not alittle earlier," he added.

"You might have been useful," I added drily. "What should Mr. Blowfieldwant with you?"

The man looked at me suspiciously, but did not answer. He turned to lookat the dead man with a thoughtful frown on his face. "This is the sortof case that absolutely invites murder, in a manner of speaking," hesaid. "A lonely old man—probably without a soul in the house—prettywell off, I expect; that sort of thing soon gets spread about among thesort of people to whom it's of interest. Of course, I couldn't sayoff-hand; but I should judge that robbery was the business here, andthat whoever did it has had to make a mighty quick exit, or they wouldscarcely have left the door as we found it. It's been a touch-and-gobusiness, and, as I say, if we had been a little earlier the oldgentleman might have been alive to tell us what he wanted to tell us."

Now, although I had been resolute in my determination to end the matter,and to go back to my prison, I found myself thanking my stars that theold gentleman had not been alive to say what he had to say. Not that Ishould ever have found it in my heart to do him an injury on my ownaccount, and, indeed, I was a little horrified to find him done todeath in this fashion; but you must understand how great a relief it wasfor me.

By this time the second man had come back, bringing with him a youngdoctor. The latter glanced quickly from one to the other of us, and thenknelt down on the stairs to make his examination. The first policeofficer stood near to him, holding the lamp; I, with the other man,stood below. In a moment or two the doctor looked up, with pursed lips,and nodded quickly to the man with the lamp.

"Nothing for me to do here," he said quietly. "He's been dead about halfan hour—scarcely more, I should think. A weak old man like thiswouldn't stand much chance when he came face to face with a strong manarmed with that stick. He's had two blows—one clean in front, and theother at the side. He must have died almost on the instant. Anyonesuspected?"

The man with the lamp shook his head. "We've only arrived here a matterof minutes ago," he replied, "having been asked by the old gentleman tocall here to-night."

"This Mr. Blowfield," answered the man in a perplexed tone, "has writtento Scotland Yard, saying that if someone would call to see him he couldgive them information concerning a nephew of his—a man called NortonHyde. This nephew robbed him some time ago, and was sentenced to penalservitude. He escaped, and committed suicide rather than be captured; sothat I don't see what the old gentleman could have had to tell us."

I determined that I would strike in boldly for myself; it would seemless suspicious than keeping silence. "Oh, yes!" I exclaimed, a littlescornfully, "he's had that idea for a long time—he was always talkingabout it."

"The idea that his nephew was alive," I said. "I daresay you mayremember the case of the young man?" I added.

"Perfectly," said the doctor. "I wonder where the old chap got thatnotion from?"

"We'd better go through the house, and see what has been disturbed,"said the first man, moving forward with the lamp. Then suddenly, after awhispered word to his companion, he turned again to me. "Were you afriend of Mr. Blowfield?" he asked, and this time I saw the doctor alsolooking at me curiously.

"Oh, yes! I knew him well," I answered readily. "Believe me," I said,with a little laugh, "I am quite willing to give you every informationin my power concerning myself. My name is John New, and I am lodgingquite near here. I have been in the habit of coming backwards andforwards on various occasions; as you know, I came in just behind youto-night."

Now all this time I had quite forgotten the boy Andrew Ferkoe; andsuddenly it leapt into my mind that instead of being in the house, as heshould properly have been, we had seen nothing of him. My heart sank atthat remembrance, for I liked the boy, and had been sorry to think howbadly he was treated. I could sympathise with him more than anyone elsecould well do, for had I not suffered just as he had suffered, and hadnot I made shipwreck of my life because of this old man who had gone tohis account? I felt certain now in my own mind what had happened; AndrewFerkoe had turned at last upon his master, and had beaten him to death,and then had fled out of the house.

The man with the lamp turned at the door of a room, and looked back atme over his shoulder. "Did you know anything about his habits, sir?" heasked. "Did he live alone?"

I determined to lie. After all, they might not discover anything aboutthe wretched boy if I held my peace. "Quite alone, I believe," I said."There was an old woman used to come in to clean house for him, and cookhis meals; but only for an hour or two a day."

"Just as I thought: this sort of party absolutely asks to be murdered!"he exclaimed.

We found the place in great disorder. Drawers had been wrenched open,and the contents scattered in all directions; desks forced, andcupboards burst open. So far as we could judge, my Uncle Zabdiel musthave been in his bedroom at the time of the attack, and must have hearda noise, and come out, armed with that heavy stick of his. There couldnot have been any struggle, save in the wrenching away of the stick fromhis grasp; after that it had been a mere matter of the two blows, as thedoctor had suggested. The robbery afterwards had been a hurriedbusiness, bunglingly done. The great safe in the corner of thestudy—that room in which I had toiled so many years—was untouched;and, from what I knew of my uncle and his ideas regarding property, Ijudged that the murderer had got but little for that risking of hisneck. That he had tried to cover up the body from his own sight wasobvious, from the fact that he must have gone back into the bedroom, andso have dragged out the bed-clothing to put over his victim.

"We'll go through the rest of the house," said the man; and I suddenlyleapt to the remembrance that they must discover Andrew Ferkoe's room,and his bed, and must begin to put awkward questions to me. I was onthe point of suggesting that I believed the other rooms to be empty;but, on second thoughts, I felt it best to hold my tongue, and to trustthat the boy might yet escape.

So the four of us came to the door of the room, and the man with thelamp unsuspiciously opened it, and went in. He stopped with a gasp, andlooked back at us.

Wonderingly we went forward into the room. The man with the lamp bentover the bed and turned back the clothes. Andrew Ferkoe seemed to rousehimself from sleep, and to stretch his arms; he sat up and yawned at us.For my part, I felt that he rather overdid the thing. His face was whiteand drawn; but then, it was always that. I confess I was a littlecontemptuous of the cunning he displayed; I was not quite so sorry forhim as I had been. There we stood, grouped about his bed, while he satup and looked round from one to the other of us.

The doctor gave a short laugh. "Matter enough!" he ejaculated. "Do youmean to say you've been asleep?"

"Do you mean to tell us that you've heard nothing to-night?" asked theman with the lamp sharply. "No struggling—no crying out?"

Andrew Ferkoe slowly shook his head. "I don't know what you're talkingabout," he said. "Who are you? I know that gentleman," he added,pointing to me. "What do they want, Mr. New?"

I began to have a sneaking admiration for the boy, even though Ishuddered at him; I thought how wonderfully he played the game. Ianswered as calmly as I could.

"Your master has been murdered, Andrew," I said—"brutally done todeath. Have you really been asleep?—have you heard nothing?"

"Nothing at all, sir," he said, scrambling out of bed, and standingghostlike amongst us in his long night-shirt, and with his thin, barefeet and ankles showing. "I don't know anything about it."

He began to whimper, looking from one to the other of us in a terrifiedway; I began to have my doubts whether, after all, he was not sincere,and had not really slept through the horrible business.

"I thought you said that the old gentleman lived alone?" asked thepolice officer, turning to me.

"When I said that I'd clean forgotten the boy," I answered easily. "Yousee, I've never been here except by daylight; how should I know thatanyone else slept in the house?"

That explanation seemed simple enough, and, in a fashion, satisfactory.I suggested to the man that Andrew Ferkoe should be allowed to dress; Ipledged my word to look after him.

"You see, you can hardly leave the boy in the house alone, after whathas occurred," I urged. "You have my address, and you can verify it ifyou like. Let me take the boy with me, and I will undertake to producehim for any enquiry at any time."

I saw that they hesitated; it was the doctor who put in the final wordon Andrew Ferkoe's behalf. He had been looking at the youth curiously,had even put a hand on his shoulder, and had twisted him about to lookinto his eyes.

"I shouldn't think much suspicion would attach to our young friendhere," he said. "A bit of a weakling, I should imagine, not very likelyto do any harm to anyone. Certainly it won't do to leave him in thisplace. Get dressed, my lad," he added to Andrew.

As he turned away I heard him whisper to the man with the lamp, "He'sbeen asleep fast enough. I doubt if the old man even cried out. Thewhole attack would be too sudden."

I waited with Andrew Ferkoe while he got dressed; the others wentdownstairs to move the body of Uncle Zabdiel. Once or twice I noticedthat the boy looked at me in a furtive way. I began to think that if hehad been innocent he would in all probability have said something, orhave asked some question. He got into his clothes rapidly, fumbling agreat deal with the buttons, as though his fingers trembled. Once helooked up, and opened his mouth as if to speak. I shook my head at him."Better not say anything, Andrew," I said in a whisper.

He looked at me in a startled way, but finished his dressing without aword. We went out of the room together, and on the stairs I met thedoctor and the two men, who were waiting for us. It seemed that one manwas to remain in charge of the house, while the other walked with me tomy lodging to see that the address I had given was a correct one. In afew minutes Andrew Ferkoe and I were walking along in silence, side byside, with the police officer a little in the rear.

In due course we came to my lodgings, and there the man left us. Iroused up the landlady, something to her surprise, and told her that Imust have another bed put into my room. I did not mean to lose sight ofthe youth until I had decided what to do with him.

The woman very obligingly got out a little camp bedstead that was stowedaway in an attic, and I assisted her to rig it up in a corner of myroom. Then she bade us "Good-night," and Andrew Ferkoe and I were leftalone. And for a time there was silence, while I sat on the side of mybed and smoked, and looked at him.

"Why do you look at me in that queer way?" he asked at last, in atrembling voice.

"Look here, Andrew," I said solemnly, "let me say quite reverently thatat the present moment there's just God and you and me in this room, andGod understands a great deal better even than I do what you have had toput up with. Don't speak until I've finished," I exclaimed sternly,"because I want to give you a word of warning. If you want to tell meanything, let's hear it; if you don't want to tell me anything, go tobed, and try to sleep. But if you do speak—speak the truth."

He looked at me round-eyed, and with his mouth wide open, for nearly aminute; then he gasped out a question. "Do you—do you really think Idid it?" he asked.

"I don't think about it at all," I answered. "I'm waiting for you totell me—if you feel you want to."

"I didn't do it—I never touched him. I should never have had thestrength or the courage," he began, in a shaking whisper.

"Of course I was," was his surprising answer. "What else could I do? Ididn't know who you were, or who was coming into the place, and I'd seenenough in the way of horrors for one night to last me all my life." Heshuddered, and covered his face with his hands, and dropped down on tohis bed.

He looked up at me, and began his extraordinary story. "I went to bed along time before old Blowfield," he said. "I think I went to sleepalmost at once; I generally do, you know. At all events I didn't hearthe old man come up to his room. When I first woke up I heard a noisedown below in the house, just like somebody wrenching open a shutter. Igot horribly frightened, and I put my head under the bedclothes, andkept very still; it was just like that night when you broke in and cameto my room. After a time the noise stopped, and I began to wonderwhether someone had tried to get in and couldn't, or whether they hadreally got into the house. It must have been about a quarter of an hourafter that—only it seemed ever so much longer—that I first heard oldBlowfield cry out."

I felt certain now that he was speaking the truth. Watching himnarrowly, I saw the terror grow in his eyes at the recollection of whathe had heard and seen in that grim old house. I nodded to him to go on.

"I heard old Blowfield shout out, 'Who's there?'" went on the youth. "Heshouted that twice, and I got so excited that I crept out of my room inthe dark, and leaned over the rail at the top of the staircase. I sawold Blowfield standing there, and just below him was a man, and the manwas crouching as if he was going to spring. Old Blowfield struck at himwith the stick—he was holding a candle in his left hand, so that hecould see what he was doing—and the man dodged, and caught the stick,and pulled it out of his hand. The man struck old Blowfield once, and hewent down and lay still; and then he struck him again."

"What good would that have been?" murmured Andrew Ferkoe resentfully. "Icould see that the man didn't think there was anyone else in the house.What chance should I have had if he'd caught sight of me? I don't knowwhether I made any noise, but while he stood there with the stick in hishands he looked up towards where I was, but he didn't see me. Then hewent back into the bedroom and came out, dragging the bedclothes; hethrew them on top of the old man. When he went down into the house Islipped back into my room and got into bed; I simply dared not move ormake a sound."

"I don't rightly know," was his reply, as he shook his head. "It seemeda long time, and at first I could hear him moving about the house hereand there, and then there was a silence. I had just got out of bed,meaning to go down, when I heard another movement in the house, and thenvoices. And I lay there, trembling so that I could feel the bed shakingunder me, until at last, after what seemed hours, I heard people comingup the stairs, and coming into my room. And then I gave myself up forlost, and tried hard to pray. I thought if I pretended to be asleep theywouldn't kill me, and so I pretended. You may imagine how relieved Ifelt when I opened my eyes and saw you."

"That's all very well, my young friend," I said, "but why in the worlddidn't you tell the truth at once, and say what you'd seen? Why did youlie, and say that you had been asleep and had heard nothing?"

"Who was going to believe me?" he asked. "Even you had heard me say howbadly the old man had treated me, and how I wished I had the courage tokill him; even you believed to-night, first of all, that I had done it.If I had told any story about a man coming into the place and killingold Blowfield, and going again, they would have laughed at me. I was ina tight corner, and the only thing I could do was to pretend that I hadslept through it all."

I saw the reasonableness of that argument; it might have gone hard withthe boy if for a moment suspicion had fallen upon him. "Did you see theface of the man clearly?" I asked, after a pause. "What was he like?"

"He was a small man, stooping a little," said Andrew Ferkoe. "I shouldthink he would be about forty-five or fifty years of age. He was dressedlike a labourer."

Instantly I remembered the man I had seen on the previous eveninglurking outside the house; I wished now that I had taken more note ofhim. I began to wonder who it could be, and whether it was only somechance loafer who had selected that house as one likely to suit hispurpose for burglary. It could scarcely have been anyone who knew UncleZabdiel's habits well, or he would not have been surprised on the stairsas he had been; for the fact that he had to snatch a weapon from thehand of the old man proved, I thought, that he had not gone theremeaning to kill. For the matter of that, few men enter a place with thatdeliberate intention; it is only done in the passion of the moment, whenthey must strike and silence another, or suffer the penalty for whatthey have done.

Long after the boy was in bed and asleep I sat there watching him. Evennow my mind was not clear of doubts concerning Andrew Ferkoe, smooththough his tale was. I wondered if all he had told me was true, or if,after all, he had seized that occasion to strike down the old man, andso pay off old scores. I knew that for the present I must leave thematter, and must wait for time or chance to elucidate the mystery.

It must have been about the middle of the night when I found myselfsitting up in bed, very wide awake, with one name seeming to din itselfinto my ears. I wondered why I had not thought of it before.

It had been a little man, who walked with drooping shoulders, a man whomight be forty-five or fifty years of age. Well, Capper was older thanthat, but then Andrew Ferkoe had only seen the man in the dim light of acandle.

And the motive? That was more difficult to arrive at, although even Ithought there I saw my way. Capper I knew was determined to killBardolph Just if he could, and he would know that Bardolph Just had goneto the house of Zabdiel Blowfield. What more natural than that he shouldhave seen him arrive, but should have missed him when he went away; thatwould explain the man in labouring clothes I had seen hanging about nearthe house. Capper would know that he must put on some sort of disguisein order to bring himself into the presence of the doctor, and in orderto lull the other's dread of him. I was convinced now that it was Capperwho had forced his way into the house late at night, and, findinghimself suddenly confronted by a man who demanded his business, hadaimed a blow at him at the same time, and killed Zabdiel Blowfield onthe impulse of the moment. I lay down again, firmly convinced that I hadarrived at a proper solution of the matter.

I further questioned Ferkoe in the morning, and all that he told meserved the more to settle the thing in my mind. I wondered if by anychance Capper would be discovered; I wondered also whether, after all, Ihad been mistaken in my estimate of him, and whether the sudden gusts ofpassion that had swept over him on the two occasions in regard toBardolph Just might not have been real madness, and might, in this lastcase, have found their victim in a man with whom Capper had nothing todo. In that case he was merely a harmful lunatic, dangerous to anyonewhen those gusts of passion swept him.

I found that during the next day or two I was pretty closely watched andinterrogated by one and another, and more than once I trembled for myliberty, and even for my life. For you will understand that I wassurrounded now, more than ever, by dangers of every sort; if it couldonce have been proved or even suggested that I was that convict nephewof the dead man, it would have gone hard with me. For here was I,masquerading under another name, and actually walking up to the house onthe night of the murder. And had not Zabdiel Blowfield actually statedin writing that he could tell the authorities something concerning hisnephew, Norton Hyde? The motive was clear; it had been vitally necessarythat I should silence Uncle Zabdiel at all costs.

So I argued the matter, and I remembered uneasily enough that thatweakling, Andrew Ferkoe, knew who I really was, and might, in case ofextremity, give my secret away. On the other hand it turned out that thepolice had found a scrap of writing in the house, which gave the nameand address of Dr. Bardolph Just, so that that gentleman was broughtinto the business, in order that questions might be asked of him. I hadgone down to the house, and there we came face to face.

There was no necessity for me to ask him what he thought about thematter; I read in his face that he was certain in his own mind that Iwas the man. I should not have spoken to him at all, because when next Ifought him I meant to fight with other weapons than my tongue, but hecame up to me, and looked at me with that evil grin of his.

"This is a bad business," he said. "I understand that you were herealmost immediately after the thing was done, eh?"

"Yes, and not before," I replied in a whisper. "You're on the wrongtrack, I assure you. I've had nothing to do with the matter."

I saw that he had something more to say to me. When presently I left thehouse he strolled along by my side. His first words were startlingenough, in all conscience.

I turned and stared at him; I did not understand in the least what hemeant. "In what have I succeeded?" I asked. "Don't I tell you that I'mnot responsible for the business we've just been talking about."

I had learnt wisdom, and I controlled myself with an effort. "What ofher?" I asked carelessly.

I saw his eyes flash, and noticed that his teeth were clenched hard ashe strode along beside me. "You've got her!" he burst out at last, "butyou shan't keep her. You've been wise enough, too, to hide her awaysomewhere where you don't go yourself. I've had you watched, and I knowthat. But I'll find her, and if I don't find her within a certain time,determined on by myself, I'll tell my story, and you shall hang!"

I was on the point of blurting out that I knew nothing about the matter,but on second thoughts I held my tongue. I guessed in a moment thatDebora must have made her escape from the house, and must be somewherein hiding, and, of course, she would not know where to communicate withme. My heart leapt at the thought that she was free; it sank again atthe thought that she might be penniless and unprotected amongststrangers. At the same time I decided that I would not give him anyundue advantage over me, by letting him understand that I did not knowwhere the girl was. I merely shrugged my shoulders and laughed.

"You can take my warning, and make the most of it," he said abruptly."If Debora does not return to me within the time I have mapped out—andI shall not even tell you what that time is—I tell what I know to theright people."

I remembered what Debora had said to me about her certainty that thisman had caused the death of Gregory Pennington; I had a shot at thatmatter now. "And some explanation will be needed regarding the man youallowed to be shut away in a grave in Penthouse Prison," I said quietly.

He turned his head sharply, and looked at me. I regarded him steadily."That's a matter you'll have to explain," he said, with a grin.

"Yes—you," he said. "I've got my story ready when the time comes, Iassure you. All I've had to do with it has been the covering up of yourtraces; that was only pity for a forlorn wretch, hunted almost to death.The changing of the clothes was your business. I don't see how itaffects me."

We had come to a point where he was turning off in one direction and Igoing in another. I gave him my final shot at parting. "Not if GregoryPennington really committed suicide," I said.

I looked back when I had gone a little way, and saw Bardolph Just in thesame attitude in which I had left him, looking after me. It was asthough I had stricken him dumb and motionless with what I had said, andI was now more than ever convinced that Debora had been right in herconjecture. I had done one good thing, at least; he would scarcely dareto carry out his threat of exposing me; he might think that I had someinside knowledge of which he was ignorant.

Meanwhile I was seriously troubled about Debora. It was impossible forme to know what had become of her, or where she was; my only hope wasthat there might be an accidental meeting between us. The various placesknown to us both were known also to our enemies; if Debora had gone tothe house of Uncle Zabdiel she would in all probability have been seenthere by Bardolph Just, or by some one in his pay. Similarly, she would,of course, keep as far away as possible from his house and from thecottage where once I had left her with Harvey Scoffold. I roamed thestreets, looking into every face that passed me, yet never seeing theface for which I longed.

An inquest on Uncle Zabdiel took place in the ordinary course, and acertain John New gave evidence of his slight acquaintance with themurdered gentleman, and of what he had seen on the night of the murder.The astounding fact that Andrew Ferkoe had slept through the wholebusiness came out in court, and was the immediate cause of someextraordinary newspaper headlines, in which more than one reporterdeveloped a hitherto undiscovered talent for wit at Andrew's expense. Itmay be wondered at, perhaps, that I should have persuaded the boy tostick to his original story, but, apart from anything else, I had strongreasons for preventing any suspicion falling upon the man Capper, and,above all, I did not for a moment believe that Andrew Ferkoe's realstory would be believed. I had grown to believe it myself, but I thoughtthat for many reasons it might be well if Ferkoe left it to be imaginedthat he had really slept, and had seen nothing.

So the matter remained a mystery, with only one curious element in it,for me at least, and that was a little point that came out in theevidence. It seemed that no finger prints had been discovered anywhere,although many things in the house had been handled. It was obvious thatthe murderer had worn gloves. That seemed to point to a moreprofessional hand than that of poor Capper, and served a little to upsetmy theory, but on the whole I believed it still.

I was to be undeceived, nevertheless, and that within a little time. Onthe very day of the inquest, when Andrew Ferkoe and myself were walkingaway, we turned, with almost a natural impulse, towards the house whichhad been the scene of the tragedy—perhaps you may call that a morbidimpulse. It was a place that would always have a curious attraction forme, by reason of the fact that the greater part of my life had beenspent there, and that I had seen many curious things occur there, andthat once poor Debora had taken refuge in it. It was all ended now withthe death of the man who had worked so much harm to me; I was thinkingabout it all as I stood outside the place, when I felt my arm clutchedconvulsively, and looked round, to see that Andrew Ferkoe, with adropping jaw, was staring at a man who was standing at a little distancefrom us, also watching the house—a man dressed as a labourer.

"What's the matter?" I whispered. I could not see the man's face fromwhere I stood; his cap was drawn down at one side, so as partially toconceal it.

"That's the man!" whispered Andrew, in a shaking voice. "I know theclothes, and I saw his face for a moment when he turned this way."

"Pull yourself together, and don't look as if you'd seen a ghost," Iwhispered sharply. "We'll follow the man, and see where he goes. As hehasn't seen you, go on ahead a bit, and then turn so that you can seehis face; then come back to me."

The youth hurried away; walked past the man with his long stride; thencame back. I saw the man glance at him for a moment sharply as he camepast; then Andrew came up to me, his face white with excitement.

We walked for a long way after the man, until at last he seemed to havesome suspicion concerning us. Once or twice he stopped, and, of course,we stopped also; then at last he turned about, and came straight backtowards where we waited.

He carried his head low, but I thought I knew the bend of his shoulders;I was convinced that in a moment he would look up, and I should seeWilliam Capper looking at me.

But I was wrong. For when he looked up, with a sullen glance ofdefiance, I saw that it was George Rabbit!

CHAPTER XIV.

WILLIAM CAPPER COMES TO LIFE.

Mr. George Rabbit looked me up and down with a new expression ofcountenance. I noticed, too, that some of his alertness was gone, andthat his narrow, shifty eyes avoided mine. He had no reason to thinkthat I should suspect him of the murder of my Uncle Zabdiel;nevertheless, he looked at me resentfully, as though, before even I hadspoken, he knew I was going to accuse him of it.

"Wotjer mean by follerin' a honest man about like this 'ere?" hedemanded savagely. "If I 'ad my rights, I ought to be follerin' you, Mr.Jail-bird—seein' wot I know abaht yer." Then, as I said nothing, butlooked at him steadily, he broke out more fiercely: "W'y don't yerspeak? Wot 'ave yer got against me, eh?"

I took him by the arm, and suddenly wrenched his hand round, so that Icould look at the palm of it; then I bent forward, and whispered to himswiftly: "There's blood on your hands!"

He struggled faintly for a moment to get free; his face had gone to asickly green colour. "You're mad—stark, starin', ravin' mad!" heexclaimed. "Don't you say sich things against me, or I'll blab—sure asdeath!"

"Death's the word," I retorted. "Now, George Rabbit, we've got to talkover this thing, and we may as well do it quietly. Take me to some placewhere I can say what I have to say."

He hesitated for a moment, undecided whether to treat the matter withdefiance, or to accede to my demands; at last he shrugged his shoulders,spat emphatically on the ground, and turned to lead the way. He turnedback again a moment later, and looked at Andrew Ferkoe with a newresentment.

"Wot's this chap got to do wiv it?" he asked. "'Ave you bin blabbin' to'im abaht it?"

"There was no necessity to do that," I replied quietly. "He saw you doit. Now, don't stand talking here; it might be dangerous."

He stood in an amazed silence for a moment, and then turned and walkedaway. We followed him rapidly, noticing that every now and then heturned to look back over his shoulder, as if undecided whether, afterall, he would not turn back altogether, and refuse to go further. But hewent on, nevertheless, and at last brought us to a little public housein a side street. Thrusting open a door with his shoulder, he went in,leaving us to follow; and we presently found ourselves in a little roomwith a sanded floor—a species of bar parlour. There the three of us satdown round a little beer-stained table, and after I had orderedrefreshments (with a double quantity for George Rabbit, because he tookthe first at a gulp), I began to say what was in my mind.

"When I saw you first to-day you were looking at a house where an oldman was murdered a few days back," I began.

"Wot of it?" he demanded. "A lot of people 'ave bin lookin' at that'ouse; they always does w'en anythink like that's 'appened."

"You were obliged to go back to it—the man who commits a murder alwaysmust, you know. You wanted to see if any one had suspected you."

The man glanced nervously round the room, and then thrust his facetowards mine across the table. "Wot's this 'ere talk abaht a murder?" hewhispered. "Wot's this 'ere talk abaht this chap 'aving seen me do it?Wot's this business abaht takin' away a honest man's character?"

"When you broke into the house the other night, and came face to facewith Zabdiel Blowfield, and got the stick out of his hand and killedhim, someone was watching you," I answered steadily.

"Watchin' me! W'y, the ole chap lived alone!" he exclaimed incautiously.Then, seeing the smile on my face, he went on hurriedly, "Leastways, soI've bin told, on'y I don't know nothink abaht it."

"You were sent there first by Martha Leach. My uncle wanted to see you,because he thought your evidence might be useful in getting me back tomy prison," I went on remorselessly. "That gave you the idea of robbingthe old man; you didn't stick at murder when you were pushed to it. Thislad here"—I indicated Andrew Ferkoe as I spoke—"was asleep in thehouse at the time, as you would have heard, if you had been at theinquest. He got out of bed and saw you. How else do you suppose he wasable to point you out to-day as the man he saw in the house?"

George Rabbit looked from one to the other of us narrowly; then he beganto speak almost as if to himself. "Now I comes to think of it, I did'ear a noise up above in the 'ouse. So it was you, was it?" he said,turning wrathfully on Andrew Ferkoe. "My God! it's a lucky thing for youI didn't find you; I'd 'ave put your light out!"

"Well, an' wot's the little game now?" asked Rabbit impudently, as heleaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Mr. Jail-bird, let's 'earwot you've got to say. You can't bring a charge like this against ahonest man without some proof. I 'ave 'eard that no finger prints 'avebin discovered, so that you won't git much that way."

"I can find a dozen ways of running you to earth," I replied. "On theother hand, it may not pay me to do so."

"Yus, that's the trouble, ain't it?" he said with a sneer. "They mightask you awkward questions, or I might 'ave a word to say abaht the gentwot's takin' my character away. Then again, wot's 'is nibs 'ere binsayin' at the inquest?"

I was bound to confess that Andrew had stated that he had slept soundlyon the night of the murder, and had heard nothing and seen nothing.George Rabbit, growing more confident with every moment, grinned andkissed his grimy finger-tips in the direction of Andrew.

"An' now 'e'll 'ave to tell anuvver tale!" he exclaimed. "If it comes tothat, 'oo's to say 'e didn't do the job 'imself; 'e was in the 'ouse."

It was not my purpose to bring the man to justice; it would go hard withme, as well, perhaps, with Andrew Ferkoe, if I made any attempt to slipa noose about the fellow's neck. Yet, much as I loathed the man, Irealised that the killing of my Uncle Zabdiel had not been anypremeditated affair; it had been a blow struck, brutally enough, for hisown liberty by this man who now sat before me. My purpose was to usehim, if possible, as an instrument for myself, to trade upon myknowledge of what he had done, and so bind him first to silence aboutmyself and who I was, and next to assist me in the finding of Debora andthe destruction of Bardolph Just's plans. I set about that now withoutmore ado.

"As I have said, it would be easy enough to prove the matter," Ianswered, "and I should have the satisfaction of seeing you hang; butthat's not my plan. We are the only people who know the truth, and weshall not speak."

I saw Andrew Ferkoe glance at me swiftly for a moment; as for Rabbit, hesat gaping at me as though he had not heard aright. "You mean it?" hegasped.

"Of course I do; I'm a man of my word," I answered him. "But there is acondition attaching to it, and that condition must be respected. I'm notthe man to be played with, and I've got you in a tighter place than youthink. Play with me, and you'll play with fire; of that I warn you."

"Now, look 'ere, guv'nor," answered the man in an altered tone, "am Ilikely to play any tricks, seein' 'ow I'm placed? Gents both, I give yermy solemn word I never meant to put the old gent's light out. I jistmeant to git wot I could quietly. I 'ad a sort of idea that 'e mightkeep money on the premises. As it was, I got next to nuffink, an' wot Idid git I don't dare part wiv, for fear I should be nabbed. I neverthought 'e'd wake up, but w'en 'e come out there, an' tried to 'it mewiv the stick, I jist jerked it out of 'is 'and, an' gave 'im one for'imself to keep 'im quiet. I ain't excusin' meself; I know I done it,an' that's all there is to it."

"In the first place, you will know me, if you know me at all, always asJohn New; the other man, once a fellow-prisoner of yours, lies buried inthat prison. Am I right?" I asked the question sternly.

"I'll take my oath of it," he asserted solemnly. "W'y, now I come tolook at yer," he added, with a grin, "you ain't no more like Norton 'Ydethan wot I am."

"Don't overdo it," I suggested. "Now, in the second place, you remembera young lady—a ward of Dr. Just?"

"She has left the doctor's house—has run away," I answered. "Shedoesn't know where to find me, and I don't know where to find her. Shemay be wandering about London friendless and without money. Can you helpme to find her?"

I nodded. "Under ordinary circumstances you are the last man in theworld that I would select for such work, but I must use the tools readyto my hand," I said. "If you play tricks with me, you'll know what toexpect, because our friend here"—I indicated Andrew—"will be only tooready to speak and to tell what he knows, without bringing me into thematter at all. But I think, for your own sake, you'll play the gamefairly."

In his eagerness he began to take all manner of strange oaths as to whathe meant to do, and as to the absolute dependence that was to be placedupon his word. I interrupted him sharply by telling him that I lookedfor deeds, and not words, and quite humbly and gratefully he promised todo all in his power. I gave him an address at which I could be found,and presently saw him go lurching away, with his head turned every nowand then to look back at me. I seemed to picture him going through lifelike that, remembering always the dead thing he had left lying oncertain stairs in a dismal old house.

And now I come to that point in my story when my own helplessness was,for a time at least, borne in upon me more strongly than ever. I had novery great hopes that where I had failed George Rabbit would succeed,and I blamed myself for having placed any reliance on him. I wanderedabout London restlessly for a day or two, as I had done before, hopingalways that any slight girlish figure going on before me might in amoment turn its head and show me the face of Debora; but that neverhappened. What did happen was that I had an unexpected meeting withBardolph Just.

The newspapers had, of course, given my address, as an important witnessat the inquest on Uncle Zabdiel, so that I was not altogether surprisedto find, one evening when I went back to my little lodging, tired out,and weary, and dispirited, that Bardolph Just was waiting for me. I wasaware of his presence in my room before ever I got to the house, for asI came up the street I happened to raise my eyes to the window, andthere he was, lounging half out of it, smoking a cigar and surveying me.I wondered what his visit might portend. I hoped that he might havediscovered something about Debora, and that I might get the informationfrom him.

On opening the door of the room and going in I saw that he was notalone; Harvey Scoffold sat there, quite as though he had come, in asense, as a protector for his patron. I put my back against the closeddoor, and looked from one man to the other, and waited for what they hadto say. Harvey Scoffold smiled a little weakly, and waved a hand to me;Bardolph Just said nothing, but looked me up and down with a fine air ofcontempt. I judged that he had news for me, and that, for the moment atleast, he felt that he had triumphed. Almost I seemed to read into hismind, and to know what that news was. But though I thought I knew theman well, I was not prepared for the vindictiveness he now displayed.

"You must excuse this intrusion," he said quietly, "but I felt sure thatyou would be anxious concerning my ward, and I thought it best to letyou know at once that she is quite safe. I did you an injustice insuggesting that she was with you; for that I apologise most humbly."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Is it likely that I shall tell you?" heasked. "I won't tell you where she is; for your satisfaction, however,you may understand that you have been the cause of her passing severalmiserable nights and days penniless in London——"

"Pardon me; had you never appeared upon the scene she would have beenquite content to remain under my care," he retorted.

"Had I never appeared upon the scene, she would before this have been inher grave," I said.

He showed his teeth for a moment in a grin, but said nothing to that."She was discovered in almost a dying condition. I was communicated withand went to her at once," he proceeded. "She is now in a private nursinghome, and so soon as she has recovered I intend to take her abroad. Ineed not assure you that she is receiving, and will receive, everypossible attention and luxury that money can command."

"Out of pure kindness," he answered with a grin. "I knew you would beanxious, and I knew that you took a deep interest in the young lady." Herose to his feet, and carefully polished his hat upon his sleeve,holding the hat in his right hand, and turning it dexterously round andround against the arm he still carried in a sling. "But I came also tosay," he went on in a sterner tone, "that with this ends your connectionwith her and with me. I am not to be trifled with again; keep out of myway."

"One moment, Dr. Just," I interposed, keeping my place before the door."As you have been so frank with me, it is fair that I should be as frankwith you. I warn you that I shall take not the faintest notice of yourrequest, and that I shall, if possible, discover the lady. My power is agreater one than yours, because my power is from the heart. I shall beatyou yet; I shall save her yet!"

He laughed and raised his eyebrows, and turned towards Harvey Scoffold."Did you ever see such a fellow?" he asked. "He is as full of words asever, although he knows that he can do nothing."

I opened the door, and saw the two men pass out and go down the street.I watched them gloomily for a moment or two from the open window. I wasalmost in a mood to follow them, but I realised that they were scarcelylikely to lead me to Debora. I must be patient; I must hope for amiracle to happen to show me the way to Debora.

After all, it was no miracle that happened, for one could scarcelyconnect a miracle with the prosaic figure of Andrew Ferkoe. As I lookedfrom my window I saw Andrew coming down the street, reading a newspaper,and reading it so intently that he was continually knocking againstpeople on the same pavement, and continually, as I could see, mutteringapologies, and then resuming his reading. I was not best pleased to seehim at that time; for although he still lodged with me until such timeas I could decide what to do with him, he spent a great part of the dayabroad in the streets. Now, however, after knocking at the door andbeing admitted, he came upstairs at a great rate, and burst into my roomwith the newspaper in his hand.

I snatched the paper from him, and began to read it eagerly at the placewhere his trembling finger had pointed. The paragraph was headed,"Strange Loss of Memory," and referred to a young lady bearing the nameof Debora Matchwick, who had been found in an almost unconsciouscondition from privation, on a seat in a public park, and had beenconveyed to the Great Southern Hospital. For a time it had beenimpossible to discover who she was, as she appeared to have entirelyforgotten any of the past events of her life, or even her own name; butat last she had given the name, and enquiries had elicited the fact thatshe had a guardian living in the neighbourhood of Highgate. Thisgentleman—the famous scientist and retired physician, Dr. BardolphJust—had been communicated with, and had at once visited the younglady. So soon as she had recovered she would go abroad for rest andchange. There seemed to be no doubt that she would ultimately recovercompletely.

I almost hugged Andrew Ferkoe in my delight. I laughed to think howeasily the discovery had been made. I laughed also at the remembrance ofhow Dr. Just had spoken of the "private nursing home," and how now Iwas, after all, to take the wind out of his sails. I rushed off at onceto the Great Southern Hospital.

Every sort of difficulty was placed in my way. It was not an ordinaryvisiting day, and I could not be admitted. The young lady had beenplaced in a private ward, it was true, but the regulations were verystrict. More than that, it was imperative that she should not be excitedin any way.

"I will not excite her; I am her greatest friend, and I know that shehas been longing to see me," I pleaded.

"But she has a visitor with her now," the young doctor urged. "Thatvisitor is her guardian."

I was now more than ever determined that I would see Debora; I pleadedagain that one extra visitor, under the circumstances, could surely makeno difference. "Besides," I added, "I know Dr. Just very well."

So at last I had my way, and I followed the young doctor through thequiet place until I came to the little private room where Debora lay—aroom formed by raising walls nearly to the ceiling in a great ward,leaving a corridor down the centre. I went in, with my heart beatingheavily; and the first person I faced was Dr. Just.

I never saw a man so astonished in all my life; I was afraid he wasgoing to lose his presence of mind, and have me bundled out then andthere, after making something of a scene. But I will do him the justiceto say that his conduct was admirable; he accepted the inevitable, andbowed slightly in my direction as the doctor left me inside the littleroom and closed the door.

Then, for the first time, I saw Debora, lying white-faced among herpillows. I noted with gratitude how her eyes lighted up as she turnedslightly in my direction, and held out a white hand towards me. I couldnot help it; I fell on my knees beside the bed, and put the hand to mylips as the tears sprang to my eyes.

"So you don't heed warnings," said the doctor, in a sarcastic tone. "Itis only for the sake of this dear girl that I have not had you turnedout of the place; I can't understand how in the world you found outwhere she was."

I took no notice of him. I turned to the girl, and, still holding herhands, began to speak earnestly.

"Debora," I said, "my sweet Debora, I want you to listen to me, and notto this man. I have found you, and I do not mean to lose sight of youagain. You will soon be well and strong, and then you will go away fromthis place—with me."

"Yes, with you," she answered, with her eyes turned to mine, and herhands gripping mine convulsively. "With you!"

I knew that the time was short, and that at any moment the young doctoror a nurse might appear, and might cut short our interview. I saw, too,that Debora was getting excited, and I judged that Bardolph Just mighttake it upon himself to act the part of doctor as well as guardian, andhave me turned away. Therefore I said what I had to say quickly.

"You will wait for me here, Debora; you will not let anyone take youaway without letting me know. See, I am writing my address here, andthat I will give to the doctor I saw just now—he can send for me ifnecessary. You are not to go away with anyone else."

"And now listen to me," broke in the harsh voice of Bardolph Just. "Thisis a crisis in the lives of the three of us, and I am not to be setaside. When the time comes that you can be removed, Debora, you aregoing away with me!"

"You are going away with me, or else your friend there goes back to hisprison. Choose!" He stood looking at her, and I saw as well as she didthat now his mind was made up.

"I would," he said. "You go away with me, or I follow this man when heleaves this place, and I give him in charge to the first constable Imeet, as the escaped convict, Norton Hyde. And I follow that charge upuntil I see him back within his prison walls, with something more thannine years of servitude before him. If you want him to keep his liberty,send him away now."

She began to weep despairingly, while I, on the horns of this newdilemma, did my best to comfort her. And suddenly, with all her heartset on my welfare, she announced her decision.

"No—no! you must not promise that!" I urged, springing to my feet, andfacing the other man. "You shall not!"

"I must, I must, for your sake!" she answered. "My dear, it will allcome right in time, if you will be patient. We shall meet when all thisis over and done with. Good-bye!"

I would have said more then, but at that moment the door opened, and theyoung doctor came in. One glance at the girl was sufficient; with animpatient gesture he ordered Bardolph Just and myself to go, and hastilysummoned the nurse. So we marched out, side by side, without a worduntil we reached the street.

Brave words, as you will doubtless think; yet even as I said them Irealised how helpless I was. Debora, for my sake, would go back to thathorrible house, there to live, perhaps, in safety for a time, until thedoctor could devise some cunning death for her. And I supposed that indue course I should hear of that; and should know the truth, and yetshould be able to say nothing. Almost I was resolved to risk my own neckin saving her; almost I determined to put that old threat intoexecution, and kill the man. But I had no stomach for murder when I cameto think of the matter: I could only beat my brains in a foolish attemptto find some way out of the tangle.

Thus nearly a week went by—a miserable week, during which I haunted theneighbourhood of the hospital and wandered the streets aimlessly,turning over scheme after scheme, only to reject each one as useless.Then, at last, one day I went to the hospital, and enquired for MissDebora Matchwick, and asked if I might see her.

I was told that she was gone. Her guardian had called on the previousday with a carriage, and had taken her home; he had made a generousdonation to the funds of the hospital, in recognition of his gratitudefor the kindness the young lady had received. So I understood that hehad succeeded, and that I had failed.

The man had succeeded, too, in putting the strongest possible barrierbetween the girl and myself, in invoking that bogey of my safety. I knewthat he could hold her more strongly with that than with anything else;I felt that she would refuse, for my sake, to have anything to do withme. Nevertheless, I came to the conclusion that I must make one lastdesperate effort to see her, or to see Bardolph Just. In a sense, I wassafe, because I knew I was always a standing menace to the man, and thathe feared me.

I went straight from the hospital to the house at Highgate. I had nodefinite plan in my mind; I determined to act just as circumstancesshould suggest. I rang the bell boldly, and a servant whom I knewappeared at the door. He was in the very act of slamming it again in myface, when I thrust my way in and closed the door behind me.

"Don't try that game again," I said sternly, "or you'll repent it.Where's your master?"

"But he's not here, sir," said the man, and I saw that he was speakingthe truth. "Dr. Just and the young lady have gone away, sir."

I stood there debating what to do, and wondering if by chance the doctormight have carried out his original intention of going abroad. Then adoor opened at the end of the hall, and Martha Leach came out andadvanced towards me. She stopped on seeing who the intruder was; thenwith a gesture dismissed the servant, and silently motioned to me tofollow her into another room. It was the dining-room, and when I hadgone in she shut the door, and stood waiting for me to speak. I noticedthat she seemed thinner than of old, and that there were streaks of greyin her black hair. She stood twisting her white fingers over and overwhile she watched me.

"Why do you want to know?" she demanded. "You've been turned out of thisplace; you ought not to have been admitted now."

"I do not forget the assistance you rendered in turning me out," I said."Nevertheless I am here now, and I want an answer to my question. I wantto find the girl Debora Matchwick."

She stood for a long time, as it seemed to me, in a rigid attitude, withher fingers twining and twisting, and with her eyes bent to the floor.Then suddenly she looked up, and her manner was changed and eager.

"I suppose you love this slip of a girl—in a fashionyou call love,"she flashed out at me. "I can't understand it myself—but then, mynature's a different one. You would no more understand what rages herewithin me"—she smote herself ruthlessly on the breast with bothhands—"than I can understand how any man can be attracted by abread-and-butter child like that. But, perhaps, you can grasp a littlewhat I suffer when I know that that man and that girl aretogether—miles away from here—and that I am here, tied here by hisorders."

"I think I can understand," I said quietly, determined in my own mind toplay upon that mad jealousy for my own ends. "And I am sorry for you."

"I don't want your sorrow, and I don't want your pity!" she exclaimed,fiercely brushing away tears that had gathered in her eyes. "Only Ishall go mad if this goes on much longer; I can't bear it. He insultedme to my face before her on the day they left for Green Barntogether—yesterday that was."

"I would kill her if I could," she snarled. "I would tear her limb fromlimb; I would mark her prettiness in such a fashion that no man wouldlook at her again. That's what I'd do."

"Why don't you have some pluck?" she demanded fiercely. "Why don't youtear her out of his hands, and take her away?"

"There are reasons why I cannot act as I would," I said. "But I'll dothis; I'll go down to Green Barn, and I'll try to persuade her to goaway with me. You've fought against that all the time, or I might havesucceeded before."

"I know—I know!" she said. "I hoped to please him by doing that; Ihoped that some day he might get tired of her, and might look at meagain as he looked at me in the old days. But now I'm hopeless; I can donothing while she is with him. I'm sorry—sorry I fought against you,"she added, in a lower tone.

"I'll do my best to help you—and the girl," I said. "It may happen thatyou may get your wish sooner than you anticipated; I believe thatBardolph Just means to kill her."

So far I had done no good, save in discovering where Bardolph Just andDebora had gone. It was a relief to me to know that they had not goneabroad; for then I should have been helpless indeed. I determined that Iwould go at once down into Essex; it would be some satisfaction at leastto be near her.

I was walking rapidly away from the house when I heard someone followingme; I turned suspiciously, and saw that it was the man Capper. He cameup to me with that foolish smile hovering over his face, and spoke inthat strange, querulous whisper I had heard so often.

"Forgive an old man speaking to you, sir," he said—"an old man allalone in the world, and with no friends. I saw you come from Dr. Just'shouse—good, kind Dr. Just!"

I felt my suspicions of him beginning to rise in my mind again, despitethe fact that the face he turned to me was that of a simpleton. Irecalled Debora's words to me when she had wondered if this man wouldever speak.

"I want to find Dr. Just—good, kind Dr. Just," he whispered. "I havefollowed him a long time, but have been so unfortunate as to miss him. Imissed him in a crowd in a street; now I find that he is not at hishouse."

"You are very devoted to Dr. Just," I observed. "What do you hope togain by it?"

"To gain?" He stared at me with that curious smile on his face. "Whatshould I gain?"

"I don't know," I answered him, "but it seems to me that you may someday gain what you want."

"God grant I may!" The answer was given in an entirely different voice,and I looked at him in a startled way as I realised at last the truththat for some time at least he had been shamming. I dropped my hand onhis shoulder, and spoke sternly enough.

"Come now, let this pretence be ended," I said. "You're as sane as Iam—you have all your wits about you. Your brain is clear; you remembereverything."

We were in a quiet lane near the house, and there was no one in sight.He clasped his hands, and raised his face—a changed face, stern-set,grim and relentless—to the sky. "Dear God!" he exclaimed passionately,"I do remember! I do remember!"

He looked at me for a moment intently, as if debating within himselfwhether to trust me; then at last he laid a hand tremulously on my arm,and stared up into my face.

"I have shammed, sir," he said. "I have lied; I have plotted. I shallnot fail now; I have come out of the darkness into the light. I havecome to life!"

His excitement, now that he had once let himself go, was tremendous; heseemed a bigger and a stronger man than I had imagined. He stood there,shaking his clenched fists above his head, and crying out that he wasalive, and almost weeping with excitement.

"I am going to kill Bardolph Just, as he killed my young master, Mr.Gregory Pennington! I have tried twice; the third time I shall succeed!"he replied.

CHAPTER XV.

I BID THE DOCTOR FAREWELL.

I did my best to calm the man Capper. I feared that in his excitement hemight betray his purpose to someone else, and someone not so welldisposed towards him. I soothed him as well as I could, and presentlygot him by the arm and walked him away. For a long way we went insilence, until at last, having climbed to Hampstead Heath, I led himinto a by-path there, and presently sat beside him on a seat, preparedto listen to his story. He was calmer by this time; the only evidence ofthe passions, so long suppressed and now working in him, was shown when,every now and then, he ground his right fist into the palm of his otherhand, as though in that action he ground the face of his enemy.

"I want you to tell me, if you will, sir," he said at last, "where theman has gone. I was a fool when I lost him; I have not done my workwell."

"I will tell you presently, when I have heard your story," I said. "Youhave made a threat of murder. I don't think it would be quite wise on mypart to let you loose on anyone in your present frame of mind."

"What I know is this," I said. "I know that Mr. Gregory Pennington wentto the doctor's house on one particular night, and that he hangedhimself in a room there. I, who found him hanging, found you in theroom, apparently dazed."

"I have to think back a long way," said Capper, leaning forward on theseat, and resting his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands."It's all so much like a dream, and yet all so clear. Let me try to tellyou, sir, what happened that night."

He sat for a long time in that attitude, as though striving to piecetogether all his recollections of that time; as though even yet hefeared that his memory might play him false.

"I don't need to say anything about myself, sir, except just this: thatMr. Pennington picked me out of the gutter, and made a man of me. Ifever one man worshipped another on this earth, I worshipped him; I wouldhave died for him. He made me his servant, and yet his friend. He knewthat I had been something better in the days before he found me; he mademe something better again. He was quite alone in the world, and hisincome was administered by a trustee, a lawyer. That's all you need knowabout it. We wandered about all over the world. He thought nothing ofstarting off for the other side of the world, taking me with him always,at a moment's notice—which, perhaps, accounts for the fact that no onehas made any enquiries about him.'"

I did not answer that; perhaps the time was coming when I should have totell him the sequel to what he was now telling me.

"Then he met the young lady—Miss Debora Matchwick—and he used often togo and see her. One night he came home raging, and told me that Dr. Justhad turned him out of the house, and had told him he was not to go thereagain. He was very much in love with the young lady, and the affairupset him a lot. But he told me that he had made up his mind to go thereas often as he thought fit; he meant to defy the doctor."

He paused so long again that I was almost minded to speak to him; heseemed to be brooding. All at once he sat upright, and folded his arms,and went on again. His voice had taken on a new sternness.

"I took to going with him—or rather following him without hisknowledge," he said slowly. "I didn't like the look of the doctor; Iknew that he meant mischief. Night after night, when Mr. Pennington wentto the house, I hid myself in the grounds, and waited and watched; thenI followed him home again. You see, sir, he was everything to me, all Ihad in the world; it drove me mad almost to think that anything mighthappen to him. So the time went on, until at last that night arrivedwhen, as it seemed, I fell asleep and forgot everything. But I rememberthat night now perfectly."

In his rising excitement he got up, and began to pace about, stoppingevery now and then to clap his hands together softly, and to nod hishead as some point in the story recurred to his memory. At last he cameback to me, and sat down, and faced me.

"He had told me before he went out that he intended to see the doctorthat night. 'I'll have a turn-up with him,' he said to me, and laughed.I dreaded that; I made up my mind that I would be very near to him,indeed, that night. It was difficult, because if once he had discoveredthat I was following him, and watching him like that, he might have beenangry, and might have ordered me to remain at home. So, you see, I hadto be discreet. I went ahead of him on that occasion, and I concealedmyself in the grounds quite near to the house. There I waited, andwaited so long that I came almost to think that he had changed his mind,and would not come at all."

"Did you see no one else in the grounds?" I asked, thinking of my ownunceremonious coming on that wonderful night.

He stared at me, and shook his head. "No one," he said. "Presently Mr.Pennington arrived, and the young lady crept out of the house to meethim; I saw them talking together for a long time. Then I saw Mr.Pennington go towards the house, and enter it."

I remembered how I had lain in the grass that night, and had seen thesame scene he now described, although from a different point of view. Iknew that Capper must have been between them and the house, whilst I,for my part, had been on the other side of them, so that they werebetween me and this man.

"Now, I will tell you, as well as I can recollect, exactly whathappened," he said, speaking slowly, and ticking off his points one byone on his fingers. "I was so nervous that night—nervous for him, Imean—that I thought, sir, I would go into the house, so as to see thatall was well with him. Everything was very silent, except that I couldhear the murmur of voices—of men talking. You will understand, sir,that I did not know what the house was like, nor my way about it; but Ifound a door unfastened at the back, and I went in. I went towards wherethe voices were sounding, and I recognised Mr. Pennington's voice, andthen the doctor's. Both the voices were loud and angry; I guessed thatthey were quarrelling."

"God help me!" he cried, wringing his hands. "I could not find the room.The place was in darkness, and I was afraid to make a noise, lest Ishould disturb some of the servants, and perhaps be turned out. I gropedmy way about among the passages, opening first one door and thenanother, and hearing the voices now near to me, and now further away; itwas as though I had been in a maze. And then the voices ceased suddenly,and I heard the sound of a blow."

"It was like the sound of a weapon striking a man's head. It wasfollowed by a sort of quick cry; and then there was silence. In myagitation I must have turned away from the spot; and I had now nothingto guide me, as the voices had guided me before. I could only standthere, waiting, and hoping to hear something. It was all so horrible,and I so helpless, that I wonder I did not go mad then. I was near to itwhen presently I heard a sound as though someone were dragging a heavybody across a room. I began again to move in the direction of thatsound, and presently came to a door, and after listening to anothersound I did not understand, opened it, and went in. I must be quick nowto tell you what I saw, for it is at this point that the darkness fallsupon me, and I seem to sink down and down into the depths that swallowedme up for so long a time."

I was really afraid that he might, indeed, forget before he could tellme; I watched him eagerly. After but a little pause he went on again,and now the horror was growing in his face, and stamping it, so that Icould not take my eyes from him.

"As I opened the door of the room the doctor had his back to me, and hewas hauling on something. I did not understand at first, until I sawthat he was pulling on a rope that ran over a hook in the ceiling. Thatwhich he pulled was hidden from me by himself; I could not see what itwas. It all happened in a second, because as I opened the door he swungaway from me, still clinging to the rope—and then, dear God!—I sawwhat it was. Only for a flash did I see up there before me the deadface of my master—the master I loved, and for whom I would have givenmy life; then, as I put up my hand to hide the sight, everything wentfrom me; and I seemed to fall, as I have said, into some greatblackness, with all my life blotted out! That," he said, with a little,quick, helpless gesture of the hands—"that is all."

I felt my blood run cold at the horror of his tale; the whole sceneseemed to be enacted before me, as though I had myself been present."And did you really forget everything until a little time ago?" I asked.

"Everything, sir," he assured me solemnly. "I was like one groping inthe dark. People I had known I knew again—as with Miss Debora; but Icould not remember anything else. I had a vague idea that I had lost mymaster somewhere about that house; that made me cling to it. The restwas a blank. And then one day, when I saw the doctor raise his stick tostrike a man down, it was as though something had been passed across mybrain, and I remembered. If I can make myself clear, sir," went onCapper eagerly, "it was as though I had gone back to that night; thatwas why I sprang at the doctor, and wanted to kill him."

"And you tried again in the train," I reminded him. "But why on eachoccasion did you sham madness?—why did you pretend you were still thesimple creature everyone supposed you to be?"

"Because I knew that if once Dr. Just guessed that I remembered theevents of that night, he would take means to have me shut up; I mighthave been taken for a lunatic, and disposed of for the rest of my life.I knew that if I could once deceive him into believing that my mind wasgone, he would not be suspicious of me. Unfortunately for my plan, Igave the game away when I tried to throw him out of that train."

"I had managed things very well up to that point," he said. "I knewpretty well how the trains ran, and I knew that if I could throw him outon the line at a certain spot between the stations it would look like anaccident, and the train on the other line would cut him to pieces. I wasso sure of success that I threw off that disguise I had worn so long,and I cried out to him that I remembered he had killed my master, andthat I meant to kill him. I dare say you remember, sir, that you askedhim what I had said, and he would not tell you."

I remembered it distinctly, and I remembered how the doctor had watchedthat little drooping figure in the corner of the railway carriage, andhow he had refused to tell me what the man had said before attackinghim.

"After that, you see, there was no more chance of doing the thingsecretly," went on Capper, speaking of the appalling business in themost easy and natural fashion. "He shut me out of the house; he wouldnot let me come near him. Twice I followed him, and the second time Ilost him. Now, sir,"—he clasped his hands, and looked at me with anagony of entreaty in his eyes—"now, sir, will you let me know where Ican find him?"

"Answer me one question first," I said, looking into his eager eyes. "Ifyou kill this man, what will become of you?"

He spread out his hands, and smiled the strangest smile I have everseen. "What does that matter?" he asked simply. "If I am found out theymay say that I am a madman; they may shut me away for life. They mayeven hang me. It will not matter—my life finished when the man whosaved me from myself died."

I did not hesitate any further; I told Capper that Dr. Bardolph Just wasliving down at a place called Green Barn, near Comerford, in Essex. Hethanked me in the strangest fashion, with the tears in his eyes; heasked if he might shake hands with me. I had a weird feeling that hefelt he might be going to his own death as I gripped his hand and lethim go. I watched him for a long time while he went across the heath; hewalked quickly, and without once looking to right or left, or evenlooking back at me. And I wondered what manner of death was preparingfor Dr. Just.

Let it be understood clearly that I was so amazed by the whole businessthat for some time I could not decide what to do. There was no thoughtin my mind of saving Bardolph Just, or of warning him; I felt that inthis grim business I had no right to interfere. The man who had metedout death to another man, and had striven so hard to kill an innocentgirl, was no subject for pity. If I had desired to do anything to stopthe business, it would have been on account of the man Capper; and sofar as he was concerned, I knew that I might as well try to turn somestrong river from its course as hold him back.

But I thought now of Debora. Strange as it may appear, in my own mind Iregarded the death of Dr. Just as something inevitable—somethingarranged and settled. Capper had given away his secret to me; I knewthat in some fashion Dr. Just would meet his death at Green Barn, unlessby a miracle it happened that he had already gone away. And even thenCapper was capable of following him, in that deadly hunt, to the otherside of the world. I determined that I must go to Green Barn—not withany intention of standing between Capper and his intended victim, butin the hope to be of service to Debora. Debora would be alone withBardolph Just, and Bardolph Just was marked for death!

I hurried back to my lodging, in the hope to find Andrew Ferkoe, and tolet him know what I was doing; but I found that he had not yet returnedto the house, and the landlady had no knowledge of his movements. Therewas nothing for it but for me to leave a message, saying that I wascalled away into the country, and hoped to be back within a day or so. Isaid nothing more definite than that.

I got out at Comerford Station in a heavy fall of summer rain. I had noknowledge of whether Capper was in front of me, or behind me in London;whether he had yet come face to face with the doctor, or whether thatwas still to happen. I was passing rapidly through the littlebooking-hall when I saw a big man lounging on a seat there, with hisarms folded and his legs stretched out before him. It was HarveyScoffold, and half involuntarily I stopped.

He looked up at me with a scowl, which changed the next moment to agrin. "Hullo!" he said, with an attempt at joviality, "what brings youdown here?"

"There's no welcome for you—nor for anyone else," he said sourly. "Lookat me, my boy; I'm turned out. Simply given my marching orders, if youplease, and sent packing."

He nodded. "Went down in the friendliest fashion, to see a man I've beendevilish useful to—and what do I get? A meal, of course; then I'mcalmly told that the doctor is in retirement, and is not receivingguests. More than that, I'll tell you something else that may not be toyour liking."

He leaned forward, thrusting his heavy face towards me, and dropping ahand on each knee. I had always disliked the man; I could have struckhim full in his smiling face now for the look it wore.

"I don't suppose it'll be a bit to your liking, Mr. John New, orwhatever your confounded name is," he said. "But the doctor has senteveryone away—servants and all—sent 'em packing to-day. He's a bitmad, I think, over that girl—or else he really means to kill her. Butthere they are—just the pair of 'em—alone together in that house. Ifyou ask me," he added with a leer, "I wouldn't mind changing places withhim, and I should say——"

I waited for no more; I left the man, and almost ran out of the stationin my excitement. I heard him call after me, but could not know what thewords were; nor did I greatly care. One picture, and one only, possessedmy mind, to the exclusion of everything else. The figure of Capper wasblotted out by that more tragic figure of Debora, at the mercy ofBardolph Just, in that lonely Essex house. More than all else, Irealised that my hands would be in a sense tied by Debora, because shewould believe that my liberty would be endangered if she left thedoctor.

I found that to be true enough. So confident was the man of his powerover her that he had given her a certain amount of liberty; so that, tomy surprise and my delight, I suddenly came face to face with her withinan hour of my reaching Green Barn—and that, too, near to the little hutat the edge of the abandoned chalk pit.

The meeting was so surprising to both of us that for a time we couldonly hold hands, and talk incoherently, each in a great relief atfinding the other safe and well. But at last we came down to moreprosaic things, and she told me something of what was happening.

Bardolph Just had sworn to carry his threat into execution if she saw meagain, or had anything further to do with me; he had determined to riskeverything, and to give me up to the authorities. I tried to show herthat the man would never dare proceed to that extremity, because of thedanger in which he would place himself by so doing. And then I told herabout Capper, and about Capper's threat.

She nodded quickly. "I was walking in the grounds a little while ago,and I saw him. He came up to me, and said how glad he was to see me, andasked about the doctor—all quite innocently and simply, I thought."

"There is no innocence and no simplicity about him," I said. "He meansmurder. I don't think anything will turn him from it. That's why I wantyou to leave all this behind and to go away."

"No, not with me," I said, reluctantly enough. I could not tell her thenall that was in my mind; I might have broken down in the telling. "Imust remain here until I know what Capper means to do. I must, ifpossible, dissuade him from that, if only for his own sake. Tell me, mydear girl," I went on earnestly, "is there no one to whom you could go,and who would befriend you? Set the doctor out of your mind altogether;I have a presentiment that, whatever happens, he will not trouble youagain. Is there no one to whom you could turn?"

"The same lawyer that Dr. Just employs," she said. "He looks after mymoney, as well as that of the doctor."

"I want you to promise, Debora, that if anything happens to me you willgo to that man, and will see to it that he makes proper provision foryou out of your money, and provides you with a settled home. He will dothat for his own sake."

"But what should happen to you?" she whispered, clinging to me. "And inany case how will anyone help me if the doctor is here to interfere?"

"I am only asking you to promise something, in case somethingelse—something quite impossible, if you like—should happen," I assuredher lightly.

It was a more difficult matter to persuade her to run away, andespecially to run away and leave me in that place. For I could not tellher my reasons, and I saw that she did not think it possible that thatweak little creature Capper could carry out his threat against thestronger man Bardolph Just; the thing was a sheer impossibility.Nevertheless, I so worked upon her terrors of the house, and of the manwho had her prisoner there, that at last she consented to go. I pressedwhat money I had upon her, and arranged that she should go back toLondon that night, and should make her way to the little quiet hotelnear the Charterhouse where she was known; there she could await aletter from me. I was to keep out of the way until she was gone, that Imight not seem to be connected with her flight. The rest was a matter onmy part of vague promises as to the future.

And then it was that I held her in my arms as I had never held herbefore, and as though I could never let her go. For I had made up mymind that I would not see her again; it was my purpose to keep awayfrom her, and to take myself out of her life from that hour. It seemedto me then as though all the strange business that had brought ustogether was closing, and I felt now, as I had not clearly felt before,that mine was no life to link with hers. She was rich, and she wasyoung, and she was fair; any love she might have felt for me was more amatter of gratitude than anything else. I had been able to stand herfriend when no other friend was near, but I was that creature without aname, who might some day by chance be sent back to his prison. I mustnot link my name with hers.

However, I would not let her suspect that this was the parting of theways. I made her repeat her promise to me to go to this lawyer, anelderly man, as I understood, and one who had dealt honestly with herfather; and with that we parted. I knew that she would slip out of thehouse, and would go off to London. From some other place I would writeto her, and would tell her of my decision. I felt also that I might havenews to tell of Dr. Bardolph Just.

And now I come to that strangest happening of all—the death of thatcelebrated physician and scientist, Dr. Bardolph Just. Of all that waswritten about it at the time, and the many eulogies that were printedconcerning the man, you will doubtless have heard; but the true story ofit is given here for the first time, and it is only given now becausethe man who killed him is dead also, and is beyond the reach ofeveryone.

The thing is presented to me in a series of scenes, so strange and weirdin their character that it is almost as though I had dreamt them, whennow, after years, I strive to recollect them. The gaunt old house,standing surrounded by its grounds; the solitary man shut up alone init, not dreaming that Debora had gone, and that I was so near at hand;and above all and before all, that strange figure of William Capper. Ifind myself shuddering now when I remember all the elements of thestory, and how that story ended.

I was a mere spectator of the business—something outside it—and Ilooked on helplessly through the amazing scenes, with always thatfeeling that I was in a dream. Long after Debora had stolen away fromthe house that night, I wandered restlessly about the place, wondering alittle at the silence, and remembering always that somewhere among theshadows lurked Capper, watching this man he had come to kill. Iremembered also that in the strangest fashion Bardolph Just had preparedthe way for him by actually sending everyone who might have protectedhim out of the house.

Exactly how Capper got into the place I was never able to discover.Whether Bardolph Just had grown careless, and did not think it likelythat the man would discover where he was, or whether Capper, withcunning, forced an entrance somewhere, I never knew. But it was aftermidnight when I heard a cry in the house, and knew that what I dreadedhad begun to happen. A minute or two afterwards the door opened, andBardolph Just came out, staggering down the steps, and looking back intothe lighted house. He seemed frightened, and I guessed what hadfrightened him.

He stopped still at a little distance from the house, and then turnedslowly, and retraced his steps. Capper stood framed in the lighteddoorway, looking out at him, but I saw that he appeared to have noweapon. In the dead silence all about us I heard Bardolph Just's wordsclearly.

"Get out of my house, you madman!" exclaimed the doctor, taking a steptowards him; but the other did not move. "What do you want with me?"

"I want to remain near you; I never mean to leave you again on this sideof the grave," said Capper.

"I don't mean to kill you—yet," replied the other. In the strangestfashion he seated himself on the top step, and folded his arms andwaited.

Bardolph Just walked away a little, and then came back. I could seethat, apart from his dread of the other man, he did not know what to do,nor how to meet this amazing situation. He took out a cigar from hiscase and lighted it, and strolled up and down there, alternatelywatching the little man seated above him, and studying the ground asthough seeking for a solution of the difficulty. At last he decided todrop threatening, and to try if he might not win the man over.

"Look here, my good Capper," he said, "I've no reason to love you, but Ithink you're merely a poor, half-witted creature, who should be morepitied than blamed. I don't want to have any trouble with you, but mostdecidedly I don't want to be subjected to your violence. I want to comeinto my house.'"

"Come in by all means," said the little man, getting to his feet; "and Iwill not use violence."

Seeing that the doctor still hesitated, I thought I might at least showmyself. I was, above all things, anxious to see the end of the business.My concern was with Capper chiefly. I could not see for the life of mewhat he would do in trying conclusions with a man of the physique ofBardolph Just. Above all things, I did not want it to happen that thedoctor should gain a victory.

He said nothing about Debora, and I rightly guessed that he had not yetdiscovered her absence, but had merely concluded that she had retiredfor the night. After looking at me for a moment or two doubtfully, hetook a step or two in my direction, and lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Look here," he said, with a nervous glance towards the man in thedoorway, "I'm all alone in this house except for a weak girl, and I'mafraid of this fellow. What shall I do?"

"I'm half afraid to go near him," he said. "You've seen him fly at me ontwo occasions; he can be like a wild beast when he likes."

"He has said that he will offer you no violence," I replied. "I don'tknow what he's got in his mind, but it seems to me, if you're afraid toturn him out, you've got to put up with him. He seems very fond of you,"I added caustically.

He shot a glance at me, as though wondering what I meant; then turnedand walked towards the house. I saw Capper retreat before him, so as togive him free entry to the place. On the door-step he turned, and calledout into the darkness to me.

"You, at any rate, can stop outside; one madman is bad enough." Then thedoor was shut, and I was left to wonder what was going on inside.

I was not to be left long in doubt. In something less than half an hour,while I was hesitating whether to go, or whether to stay, the door waspulled open again, and a voice so querulous and nervous that I scarcelyrecognised it for that of the doctor called out into the darkness,

I showed myself at once, and he ran down the steps to me. I saw that hewas shaking from head to foot; the hand with which he gripped me, whilehe stared over his shoulder back into the house, was a hand of ice.

"For the love of God," he whispered, "come into the house with me! Ishall go mad if this goes on. I can't shake him off."

"I can't; he's taken every key of every lock in the house and hiddenthem. I can't shut a door against him anywhere; upstairs and downstairs,wherever I go he is there, just behind me. Will you come in?"

I went in; the sheer fascination of the thing was growing on me. Cappertook not the faintest notice of me; he was waiting just inside the door,and he followed us into a room. There he seated himself, with his handson his knees, and waited. The doctor made a pretence of drinking, andeven of lighting a cigar, but he set the glass down almost untasted, andallowed the cigar to go out. No words were exchanged between us, andstill Capper kept up that relentless watch.

At last Bardolph Just sank down into a chair, and closed his eyes. "Ifhe won't let me go to bed, I'll sleep here," he murmured.

But in a moment Capper had sprung up, and had gone to the man and shakenhim roughly by the shoulder. "Wake up!" he ordered. "You'll sleep nomore until you sleep at the last until the Judgment Day."

I saw then with horror what his purpose was. I knew not what the end wasto be, but I saw that his immediate purpose was to wear the other mandown until he could do what he liked with him. I thought he was a foolnot to understand that in striving to break down the strength of theother he was breaking himself down too; but that never seemed to occurto him. For the whole of that night he kept Bardolph Just awake,followed him from room to room in that house where no door would lock,and where he gave his victim no time to barricade himself in; he neverleft him for a moment. More than once Bardolph Just turned on him, andthen the eyes of Capper flashed, and he drew back as if about to spring;and the doctor waited. He threw himself on his bed once, in sheerexhaustion, and Capper made such a din in the room by overturning tablesand smashing things that the wretched man got up and fled downstairs,and out into the grounds. But Capper fled with him.

For my part, I slept at intervals, dropping on to a couch, or into adeep chair, and closing my eyes from sheer weariness. I found myselfmurmuring in my sleep sometimes, incoherently begging Capper to give thegame up, and to let the man alone; but he took no notice of me, and Imight indeed have been a shadow in the house, so little did he seem tobe aware of my presence. When I could, after waking from a fitful sleep,I would stumble about the house in a search for them, and even out intothe grounds; and always there was the man striving for rest, and theother man keeping him awake.

Once Bardolph Just armed himself with a stick, and ran out of the house;Capper snatched up another, and ran after him. I thought that this wasthe end; I ran out too, crying to Capper to beware what he did. When Igot to them—and this was the noon of the following day—Bardolph Justhad flung aside his stick, and stood there in a dejected attitude,looking at his persecutor.

"It's no good," he said hoarsely, "I give in. Do what you will with me;ask what you will; this is the end."

That strange hunt went on for the whole of that day, and during the nextnight. I only saw part of it all, because, of course, I fell asleep, andslept longer than I had done at first. But I saw once the wretched manfall upon his knees before Capper, and beg for mercy; saw him strugglewith Capper with his uninjured arm, so that the two of them swayedabout, dazed with want of sleep; saw him fall to the ground, and try tosleep, and the other kick him viciously into a wakeful state again. Andat last came the end, when the doctor went swaying and stumbling up thestairs towards his bedroom, muttering that the other man could do hisworst, but that he must sleep. So utterly worn out was he that he got nofurther than the landing; there he fell, and lay as one dead.

The sun was streaming in through a high window; it fell upon theexhausted man, and upon Capper standing beside him. Capper was swaying alittle, but otherwise seemed alert enough.

He went away, and after a little time came back with a rope and ahatchet. In my horror at what he might be going to do, I would havetaken the hatchet from him; but now he threatened me with it, with asnarl like that of a wild beast; and I drew away from him, and watched.He proceeded to hack away the rails of the landing, leaving only thebroad balustrade; he cut away six rails, and tossed them aside. Then hemade a running noose in the rope, and fastened the other end of itsecurely to the balustrade. There was thus left a space under where therope was fastened, and sheer down from that a drop into the hall below.He knelt down beside the unconscious man, and lifted his head, and putthe noose about his neck. He tightened it viciously, but the sleepingman never even murmured.

Then I saw him begin to push the sleeping man slowly and with efforttowards the gap he had made in the staircase rail.

When I could look (and it was a long time before I could make up my mindto do so), the body of Bardolph Just swung high above me, suspended bythe neck. On the landing, prone upon the floor, lay William Capper,sleeping soundly.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE BOY WITH THE LONG CURLS.

The suicide of that brilliant and cultured man, Dr. Bardolph Just,caused, as you will remember, a very great sensation at the time, andthere was much wonder expressed as to why the man had hanged himself atall. But there was no doubt about the question of suicide, because thewhole thing had been so deliberately and carefully planned.

He had taken care to send everyone away from him—even an old andtrusted friend like Mr. Harvey Scoffold—and had left himself absolutelyalone in that great house. Various theories were put forward as to howhe had managed to tie the knot so successfully, in making that runningnoose for his neck; but it was universally agreed that that had been amatter of teeth and his one uninjured hand. Shuddering accounts, whollyimaginary, were given of what the man's last hours must have been, andin what determined fashion he must have hacked away the rails, in orderto make a space through which he could push his way. Everyone seemed tobe perfectly agreed on that matter, and there it ended.

For the rest, let me say that I waited in that house until, in duecourse, William Capper woke up. He went about what he had to do afterthat in the most methodical way, restoring all the keys to the doors,and putting in order such things as had been disturbed during thoselong, weary hours when he had followed the other man round the house. Hesaid but little to me, and at last we came out of the place, and stoodtogether, with the doors of the house closed upon us. Only when we hadgone through the grounds, and had come out upon the high road did hespeak again, and then without looking at me.

"This is where we part, sir," he said quietly. "You will be making forLondon, and I——"

"I don't know, and it doesn't matter," he replied, looking out over thelandscape that stretched before him. "I'm an old man, and there may notbe many years for me. It does not matter much where or how I spend them.If," he added whimsically, "I could be sure that they would send me tothat prison from which you came"—for I had told him that part of thestory—"I would do something that would cause me to be sent there; butit might be another prison, and that wouldn't do. I should like to benear him."

I stretched out my hand to him, on an impulse, in farewell, but he shookhis head. "You might not like to think afterwards that you took my hand,after what I have done," he said quietly. Then, with a quick nod, thissingular creature turned away and walked off down the road. I lost himat a turn of it, and I saw him no more.

I went back to London that night, and at my old lodging found AndrewFerkoe awaiting me. I had the task before me of writing to Debora, andthat task, as you may suppose, was not an easy one. Nevertheless Icontrived to put my case before her clearly and without brutality.

I told her that I should love her all my life; I blessed her for all shehad unconsciously done for me; I told her I was grateful for the sweetmemory of herself that she had left with me. But I reminded her that Ihad no name, and no position, and no hopes, and if by any unfortunatechance my real name was thrust upon me in the future, it would only beto bring shame and degradation upon me and upon any one with whom I wasassociated. And I added that she would have news very soon concerningthe doctor, and I thought it improbable that he would ever trouble heragain.

I sealed the letter and directed it, and gave it to Andrew Ferkoe. "Runout and post that," I said. "And never speak to me about the matteragain. You and I are alone together in the world, Andrew, and we shallhave to be sufficient for each other."

The lad weighed the letter in his hand, studying the address, andlooking from it to me and back again. "I know what you've done," hesaid; "you've had a row with the young lady—that's what you've done."

"You simpleton!" I laughed; "what do you know about such matters? I'vehad no row with the young lady, as you express it. I'm only trying to dothe right thing."

"I believe she's very fond of me," I replied. "Only there are suchthings in this world as honour, and justice, and truth, and it iswritten among the laws that men should obey, but do not, that youmustn't take advantage of a woman's fondness for you. In other words,Andrew, you must play the game. So that it happens that, as I'm a rankoutsider and a bad lot, and as I have the stain of the prison on me,I've got to steer clear of a young girl who is as high above me as thestars. In a little time she will come to think of me with friendlyfeelings, but no more than that. So off with you, my boy, and post thatimportant letter."

Andrew hesitated a moment or two longer, and shook his head, but at lasthe sallied forth on his errand. I had lighted a cigar, and was on thepoint of sitting down to enjoy it, and to ruminate luxuriously over mymiseries, when there came a knock at the door, and my landlady put herhead in to announce that a gentleman had come to see me. I was rapidlyrunning over the names of the extremely few people who even knew of mywhereabouts as the man entered, and disclosed himself as an utterstranger. He was a little man, dressed in black, and of a precise mannerof speech and action. The landlady withdrew, and the visitor stoodlooking at me, as though taking stock of me generally, while he removedhis gloves.

I told him that I was, and I began to have an unpleasant sensation thathe must be connected with the police in some way. However, he smiledwith satisfaction at this proof that he was right, and took from hisbreast pocket a little bundle of papers.

"You were, I believe, a friend of the late Mr. Zabdiel Blowfield, whowas brutally murdered a short time ago?" he asked, looking up at me.

"As you are doubtless aware, Mr. New, the old gentleman was veryeccentric, and took very sudden likes and dislikes. He had no one in theworld belonging to him, his one nephew, after a somewhat disgracefulcareer, having died shamefully. It seems, however, that, slight as youracquaintance with him was, he took a decided liking for you."

"Then he has made up for any lack in that respect now," said the man."Perhaps I should introduce myself, Mr. New. My name is Tipping—JamesTipping—and I was Mr. Blowfield's solicitor for many years. I shouldlike, Mr. New, to congratulate you; your poor old friend has left youeverything he possessed in the world."

For a moment or two I gaped at him, not understanding. I tried to framewords in which to answer, tried to get some grasp of his meaning. WhileI stood there, staring stupidly, he smiled indulgently, and went onspeaking.

"The will in which he left everything to you, and which was dulywitnessed at my office, was prepared only a few days—a few hoursalmost—before his death. It was prepared under curious circumstances.He seemed to have an idea that he had not treated his dead nephew verywell, and he wanted to make amends in some way. He told me that was thereason that he wanted to leave the money to you, a young man, with hisway to make in the world."

I own I felt bitterly ashamed. I seemed to see this strange old mandoing what he thought was some tardy act of justice at the very end, anddoing it in such a fashion that my identity should not be revealed.True, I remembered that in sheer panic he had tried to destroy meafterwards, but he had not revoked the will.

"Considerably over eighty thousand pounds," said Mr. Tipping unctuously."Mr. Blowfield lived very simply, as you are aware, and was extremelysuccessful in his investments generally. I congratulate you, Mr. New,with all my heart; I regret if I have been somewhat abrupt, and so havestartled you."

The man made an appointment for me to see him at his office on thefollowing day, but meanwhile left a substantial sum in my hands. WhenAndrew Ferkoe came back, as he did presently, I told him the great news.

"Now, look here, Andrew," I said solemnly, "I regard this money asbelonging almost as much to you as it does to me. There's not theslightest doubt that my Uncle Zabdiel made your father poor, and youknow well enough that he ground you pretty hard afterwards. You toiled,just as I toiled before you; and now we've got our great reward. Youshall join forces with me; we'll start life together, in a betterfashion than any we have yet enjoyed. Come down with me to see thelawyer to-morrow, and I'll settle a certain amount on you, and tie it uptight, so that you can get at it only in instalments; because money's adreadful temptation. After that we'll decide what we shall do with ourlives."

I slept but little that night; my brain was awhirl with many thoughts.Now, more than ever, there entered into me the temptation to rememberonly that I was a rich man, and by that right, at least, I mightapproach Debora. I weighed that aspect of the case carefully through thelong hours of the night—almost making up my mind at times that I wouldthrow everything else to the winds, and would go to the girl and beg hernow to start life with me in a newer and a better fashion than any sheor I had known. But with the cold light of the dawn hard facts assertedthemselves; and I knew that the brand of my prison was on me, and couldnot well be washed out. I rose from my bed, determined that for thefuture love or thoughts of love was not for me.

In due course we called upon Mr. James Tipping, and I listened withwhat patience I might to a lecture from that gentleman on the sin ofmistaken generosity. In the end, of course, I had my way, and AndrewFerkoe found himself with an income, and with Mr. James Tipping as hislegal guardian. I will not tell you the amount, lest you should regardme either as too generous or not generous enough; suffice it that Andrewcould look forward to the prospect of passing his days in comfort, nomatter what might happen to me.

A few days of splendid idleness supervened on that, and I saw Londonunder a new aspect, and with a heart almost at peace—almost, because itwas utterly impossible for me to shut out of my mind what might havebeen and what never could be. So difficult was it, indeed, that at lastmy resolution broke down; and one evening I drove straight to the littlehotel near the Charterhouse where I had left Debora. I rehearsedspeeches as I went along, telling myself that she should understandclearly what the position was, and what she risked, and all the rest ofit; I was very full of the matter by the time the cab stopped outsidethe hotel.

But she was gone. So little had I expected that, that I stared in blankamazement at the porter, and asked him if he was quite sure. Yes, he wasquite sure; the lady had left two days before, and had not stated whereshe was going.

That was a knock-down blow, and one from which I found it difficult torecover. My pride was hurt, inconsistently enough; I had never expectedthat she would take the matter like that, and so readily adopt the veryforcible arguments I had brought to bear upon the situation in my letterto her. I had pictured her as resenting the idea fiercely; I hadpictured her broken down, and longing to see me, and to put her own verydifferent view of the matter before me. This calm acceptance of myideas was not what in my heart I had really anticipated.

Foolishly enough, I went back again and again to the hotel; but therewas no news of her. I did not even know the name of the lawyer to whom Ihad recommended her to go, in the event of anything happening to me orto the doctor. I began to see with bitterness that this young ladyregarded me merely as an episode—merely as a highly undesirable escapedconvict, who had forced his way into her life, and who was now donewith.

For my part, I had done with London, and I had done with England. I madeup my mind that I would go abroad, and would start again in a newcountry, and would endeavour to make something of my miserableexistence. So set was I upon the idea that in a matter of days I haddecided everything, and was buying my outfit. I put the matter beforeAndrew Ferkoe; I expected that he would raise objections to our parting.

He seemed a little upset, but said nothing that bore greatly on thequestion. He had great hopes, he told me, of being a doctor, and wasalready making arrangements to enter himself at a hospital, with a viewto training. I applauded the idea, for I had not liked to think that thelad might settle down to doing nothing save the spending of his income.

Judge of my surprise, therefore, when on the very next day he walkedinto my sitting-room in the comfortable hotel in which we had taken upour quarters, and announced quite another decision. He announced itfirmly, too, and with more daring than I should have given him creditfor.

"You're making a great mistake if you think of doing that," I assuredhim. "Here in London you can settle down, and become a great and cleverman; with me you'll probably lead a useless, wandering sort ofexistence, and accomplish nothing. Be wise, and stay where you are."

"I'm coming with you," said Andrew obstinately. "You've been awfullygood to me, and I should be a beast to let you go on alone, to knockabout the world. I've been selfish even to think of it."

Nor could I shake his determination. I had booked my passage, and I nowhad to take another for him. He was nervous of going, he told me, andwould greatly prefer to have a cabin to himself, if that could besecured. As there were not many passengers by that particular boat, Iwas able to arrange that he should be alone in a small cabin. I settledthe matter then and there, and paid his passage money. And so we came tothe last night we were to spend in England.

"I want to have a run round to-morrow," he said, as we were about toretire to our rooms. "It'll be the last time I shall see London, Iexpect, and I want to make the most of every hour. The vessel doesn'tsail until quite late, and I shall go on board and turn in at once. I'mdreadfully afraid I shall be ill, and I don't want to wake up until I'mmiles away from the shore; then perhaps I can face it better."

Having settled that point, the boy prepared to go to bed. When he got tothe door of the room, however, he turned back, and slowly retraced hissteps to where I stood. He seemed bashful and nervous; he did not lookinto my eyes.

"There's never been anyone in the world that's behaved as well to me asyou have," he said. "I shall never be able to thank you enough."

"I don't intend to speak about it again, but I must, just this lasttime. God bless you, Jack"—I had taught him to call me that—"and mayyou be the happiest man in the world, wherever you are."

Before I could prevent him he had caught my hand in both of his, and hadkissed it passionately; then, with a sound suspiciously like a sob, heturned and bolted from the room. I had known him always for an odd,strange creature, but I confess I was moved more strongly then thanperhaps I had ever been moved before.

Evidently he had made up his mind to make the most of the day; he wasgone from the hotel when I came down in the morning. I took my last lookat London on my own account, feeling not too cheerful at the prospect ofgoing so far away. Then, towards the hour for sailing, I started for theship. My luggage had gone on, and I had nothing to do but to put myselfon board.

"The young gentleman came on board, and turned in about half an hourago, sir," the steward told me. "Dreadful afraid of being seasick, sir;said he wasn't to be disturbed on any account."

"Let him alone by all means," I said laughing. I felt relieved to knowthat Andrew had got safely out of his adventures of the day. I turnedin, and slept until the morning, by which time we were well out to sea.

Andrew did not put in an appearance all that day. He sent messages to meby the steward, to say that he was very ill, and did not want to seeanyone; a little later, that he was getting better. It was quite late inthe evening when I put the steward aside and insisted on seeing the boy.I was anxious about him.

The cabin was not particularly well lighted as I stumbled into it. I sawthe boy sitting on the side of his bunk, with his face partly turnedfrom me. Curiously enough, he was wearing his hat, a soft felt I hadnoticed him with the day before we left London.

"Well, Andrew," I said cheerily, "I'm sorry to see you like this. Muchbetter for you to put a good face on it, and come on deck."

In a moment the boy rose to his feet and tossed aside the felt hat; agreat mass of curls came tumbling down on to his shoulders. I uttered acry of amazement.

"Andrew knew all about it all the time," she whispered to me, whenpresently we were coherent, and when she had blushingly apologised forher boy's dress. "He came to me after he had posted the letter you sentme; then, when I knew that you were going to sail, I made up my mind tocome with you. You foolish fellow! you would only have run away from meagain if I had tried to meet you in any other way; and I wanted tofollow you all over the world."

THE END.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEAD MAN'S LOVE ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions willbe renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyrightlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the UnitedStates without permission and without paying copyrightroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use partof this license, apply to copying and distributing ProjectGutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by followingthe terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for useof the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything forcopies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is veryeasy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creationof derivative works, reports, performances and research. ProjectGutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you maydo practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protectedby U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademarklicense, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the freedistribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “ProjectGutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the FullProject Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online atwww.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree toand accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by allthe terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return ordestroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in yourpossession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to aProject Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be boundby the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the personor entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only beused on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people whoagree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a fewthings that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic workseven without complying with the full terms of this agreement. Seeparagraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with ProjectGutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of thisagreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“theFoundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collectionof Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individualworks in the collection are in the public domain in the UnitedStates. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in theUnited States and you are located in the United States, we do notclaim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long asall references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hopethat you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promotingfree access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping theProject Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easilycomply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in thesame format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License whenyou share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also governwhat you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries arein a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of thisagreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or anyother Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes norepresentations concerning the copyright status of any work in anycountry other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or otherimmediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appearprominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any workon which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which thephrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work isderived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does notcontain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of thecopyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone inthe United States without paying any fees or charges. If you areredistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “ProjectGutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must complyeither with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 orobtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is postedwith the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distributionmust comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and anyadditional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional termswill be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all worksposted with the permission of the copyright holder found at thebeginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of thiswork or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute thiselectronic work, or any part of this electronic work, withoutprominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 withactive links or immediate access to the full terms of the ProjectGutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, includingany word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide accessto or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a formatother than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the officialversion posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expenseto the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a meansof obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “PlainVanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include thefull Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ worksunless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providingaccess to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic worksprovided that:

• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a ProjectGutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms thanare set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writingfrom the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager ofthe Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as setforth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerableeffort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofreadworks not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the ProjectGutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, maycontain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurateor corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or otherintellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk orother medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage orcannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Rightof Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the ProjectGutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a ProjectGutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim allliability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legalfees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICTLIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSEPROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THETRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BELIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE ORINCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCHDAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover adefect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you canreceive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending awritten explanation to the person you received the work from. If youreceived the work on a physical medium, you must return the mediumwith your written explanation. The person or entity that provided youwith the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy inlieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the personor entity providing it to you may choose to give you a secondopportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. Ifthe second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writingwithout further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forthin paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NOOTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOTLIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain impliedwarranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types ofdamages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreementviolates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, theagreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer orlimitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity orunenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void theremaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, thetrademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyoneproviding copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works inaccordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with theproduction, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any ofthe following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of thisor any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, oradditions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) anyDefect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution ofelectronic works in formats readable by the widest variety ofcomputers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. Itexists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donationsfrom people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with theassistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’sgoals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection willremain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secureand permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and futuregenerations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, seeSections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of thestate of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the InternalRevenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identificationnumber is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted byU.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and upto date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s websiteand official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project GutenbergLiterary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespreadpublic support and donations to carry out its mission ofincreasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can befreely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widestarray of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exemptstatus with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulatingcharities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the UnitedStates. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes aconsiderable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep upwith these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locationswhere we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SENDDONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular statevisitwww.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where wehave not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibitionagainst accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states whoapproach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot makeany statements concerning tax treatment of donations received fromoutside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donationmethods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of otherways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. Todonate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the ProjectGutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could befreely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced anddistributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network ofvolunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printededitions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright inthe U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do notnecessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paperedition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG searchfacility:www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how tosubscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

CHAPTER		PAGE
I.—	I Come to the Surface of Things	9
II.—	I am Hanged—and Done For	29
III.—	The Missing Man	49
IV.—	A Little White Ghost	68
V.—	I am Drawn from the Grave	89
VI.—	I Behave Disgracefully	109
VII.—	In the Camp of the Enemy	129
VIII.—	Misery's Bedfellow	150
IX.—	A Shooting Party	169
X.—	I Touch the Skirts of Happiness	189
XI.—	Uncle Zabdiel in Pious Mood	209
XII.—	An Appointment with Death	228
XIII.—	"That's the Man!"	248
XIV.—	William Capper Comes to Life	267
XV.—	I Bid the Doctor Farewell	286
XVI.—	The Boy with the Long Curls	306