is eyes burned their way through the darkness.
Soon he saw that it was a man who came unsteadily, but swiftly, down
the roadway.

Macheson leaned over the gate. He would have preferred not to disclose
himself, but as the man passed, he was stricken with a sudden
consciousness that for him the events of the night were not yet over.
This was no villager; he had not even the appearance of an Englishman.
He was short and inclined to be thick-set, his coat collar was turned
up, and a tweed cap was drawn down to his eyes. He walked with uneven
footsteps and muttered to himself words that sounded like words of
prayer, only they were in some foreign language. Macheson accosted him.

"Hullo!" he said. "Have you lost your way?"

The man cried out and then stood still, trembling on the roadside. He
turned a white, scared face to where Macheson was leaning against the
gate.

"Who is that?" he cried. "What do you want with me?"

Macheson stepped into the lane.

"Nothing at all," he answered reassuringly. "I simply thought that you
might have lost your way. These are lonely parts."

The newcomer drew a step nearer. He displayed a small ragged beard, a
terror-stricken face, and narrow, very bright eyes. His black clothes
were soaked and splashed with mud.

"I want a railway station," he said rapidly. "Where is the nearest?"

Macheson pointed into the valley.

"Just where you see that light burning," he answered, "but there will
be no trains till the morning."

"Then I must walk," the man declared feverishly. "How far is it to
Nottingham?"

"Twenty-five miles," Macheson answered.

"Too far! And Leicester?"

"Twelve, perhaps! But you are walking in the wrong direction."

The man turned swiftly round.

"Point towards Leicester," he said. "I shall find my way."

Macheson pointed across the trees.

"You can't miss it," he declared. "Climb the hill till you get to a road
with telegraph wires. Turn to the left, and you will walk into
Leicester."

For some reason the stranger seemed to be occupied in looking earnestly
into Macheson's face.

"What are you doing here?" he asked abruptly.

"I am close to where I am staying," Macheson answered. "Just in the wood
there."

The man took a quick step forwards and then reeled. His hand flew to his
side. He was attacked by sudden faintness and would have fallen, but for
Macheson's outstretched arm.

"God!" he muttered, "it is finished."

He was obviously on the verge of