r again. His mind had been quickly
made up, nay! his actions in the immediate future should of a truth have
been accomplished two days ago, ere the meddlesomeness of women had
well-nigh jeopardized his own safety.

All that he meant to do now was to go quickly to the pavilion, find the
leather wallet then return to his own stableyard, saddle one of his nags
and start forthwith for Dover. Eighteen miles would soon be covered, and
though the night was dark, the road was straight and broad. De Chavasse
knew it well, and had little fear of losing his way.

With plenty of money in his purse, he would have no difficulty in
chartering a boat which, with a favorable tide on the morrow, should
soon take him over to France.

All that he ought to have done two days ago! Of a truth, he had been a
cowardly fool.

He did not cross the hall this time but went out through the
dining-room by the garden entrance. Not a glimmer of light came from
above, but as he descended the few stone steps he felt that a few soft
flakes of snow tossed by the hurricane were beginning to fall. Of course
he knew every inch of his own garden and park and had oft wandered about
on the further side of the ha-ha whilst indulging in lengthy
sweetly-spoken farewells with his love-sick Sue.

Absorbed in the thoughts of his immediate future plans, he nevertheless
walked along cautiously, for the paths had become slippery with the
snow, which froze quickly even as it fell.

He did not pause, however, for he wished to lose no time. If he was to
ride to Dover this night, he would have to go at foot-pace, for the road
would be like glass if this snow and ice continued. Moreover, he was
burning to feel that wallet once more between his fingers and to hear
the welcome sound of the crushing of crisp papers.

He had plunged resolutely into the thickness of the wood. Here he could
have gone blindfolded, so oft had he trodden this path which leads under
the overhanging elms straight to the pavilion, walking with Sue's little
hand held tightly clasped in his own.

The spiritual presence of the young girl seemed even now to pervade the
thicket, her sweet fragrance to fill the frost-laden air.

Bah! he was not the man to indulge in retrospective fancy. The girl was
naught to him, and there was no sense of remorse in his soul for the
terrible wrongs which he had inflicted on her. All that he thought of
now was the wallet which contained the fortune. That which would