," he chuckled. "My young friend Montagu repairing his
fallen fortunes on the road! Won't you introduce me to the other
gentlemen, or would they rather remain incog? Captain Claude Duval, your
most obedient! Sir Dick Turpin, yours to command! Delighted, 'pon my word,
to be rum-padded by such distinguished--er--knights of the road."

"The honour is ours," answered Creagh gravely, returning his bow, but the
Irishman's devil-may-care eyes were dancing.

"A strange fortuity, in faith, that our paths have crossed so often of
late, Montagu. Now I would lay something good that our life lines will not
cross more than once more."

"Why should we meet at all again?" I cried. "Here is a piece of good turf
under the moonlight. 'Twere a pity to lose it."

He appeared to consider. "As you say, the turf is all that is to be
desired and the light will suffice. Why not? We get in each other's way
confoundedly, and out of doubt will some day have to settle our little
difference. Well then, if 'twere done 'twere well done quickly. Faith, Mr.
Montagu, y'are a man after my own heart, and it gives me a vast deal of
pleasure to accept your proposal. Consider me your most obedient to
command and prodigiously at your service."

Raffish and flamboyant, he lounged forward to the window of the carriage.

"I beg a thousand pardons, sweet, for leaving you a few minutes alone," he
said with his most silken irony. "I am desolated at the necessity, but
this gentleman has a claim that cannot be ignored. Believe me, I shall
make the absence very short. Dear my life, every instant that I am from
you is snatched from Paradise. Fain would I be with you alway, but stern
duty"--the villain stopped to draw a plaintive and theatric sigh--"calls
me to attend once for all to a matter of small moment. Anon I shall be
with you, life of my life."

She looked at him as if he were the dirt beneath her feet, and still he
smiled his winsome smile, carrying on the mock pretense that she was
devoted to him.

"Ah, sweet my heart!" he murmured. "'Twere cheap to die for such a loving
look from thee. All Heaven lies in it. 'Tis better far to live for many
more of such."

There was a rush of feet and a flash of steel. Donald Roy leaped forward
just in time, and next moment Hamish Gorm lay stretched on the turf,
muttering Gaelic oaths and tearing at the sod with his dirk in an impotent
rage. Sir Robert looked down at the prostrate man with his inscrutable
smile.

"Y