thinking of that
midnight scene in the great forest when my sweet lady had gone on her
knees to this fiend in human guise. "And so should you," I added, "if
you care aught for the honor of the woman who loves you."

But now it was this hot-headed Richard I have drawn for you who saw
farthest and clearest.

"All in good time," he said, coolly. "At this present we have Dan
Morgan's fish to fry, and sitting here saucing this devil's mess of a
supper with thoughts of private revenge will never fry it. Set your wits
at work; Falconnet's ghost has put mine hopelessly out of gear. Ye gods!
but 'twas a most fearsome thing to look at!"

I did not answer him at once, and whilst I plied knife and fork for the
sake of appearances, I would think upon what he had discovered. This
reappearance of Francis Falconnet was not to be passed over lightly.
What would he do, or seek to do? Nay, what devilish thing was it he
might not do? If the fire had burned his passion out, it had doubtless
kindled a feller blaze of revenge. And if his thirst was for vengeance,
how could he quench it in a deeper draft than by harrying the woman we
both loved? 'Twas only by a mighty effort that I could drag myself back
to Dick's urging and the needs of the hour.

"To have some chance of hearing gossip to our purpose, we must make
shift to gain admittance to this officers' rout at the manor house," I
said.

"The devil!" quoth Dick, "I venture that's easier said than done--for
two plain country gentlemen."

"Never fear; there will be others there lacking fine clothes, and so the
throng be great enough, we may pass current in it."

Richard pushed his plate back with a grimace of disgust.

"Let us be at it, then. Another grapple with this pig-bait will finish
me outright."

A half-hour later we were tethering our cobs at the already crowded
hitching-rail in front of a goodly mansion some mile or more beyond the
camp limits on the northward road; a rambling manor house to the full as
large as Appleby Hundred, with a shaven lawn in front, and within,
lights and music and sounds of revelry.

"By the Lord Harry! but this Master Harndon would seem to be a man of
substance," says Dick. And then: "Can you pick out a good horse in the
dark, Jack? It may come to a race for our necks, by and by, and these
cobs of ours are too broad-backed for speed."

I said I could, and so we went deeper into the cavalcade at the
hitch-rail and marked out two clean-limbed c