nger became real, he
would lay bare his breast to Hibbert as Hibbert had laid bare his breast
to him. He would tell him, fairly and honestly, why he could no longer
keep his secret; then Hibbert would be able to warn his father, and he
would be able to flee from the country he had sought to betray.

Paul felt easier when he had come to this decision. It seemed to him
that he had divided his secret with God, and that he was now acting as
He would have counselled him.

And surely His hand had been in it from the first--from the hour when
he, Paul, had been shielded from his pursuers in his ride to Redmead to
the hour which had brought the son of his pursuer to a sick bed, and
induced him to pour his strange confession in his ear. Nay, could not
the hand of God be seen in it still farther back, from the very hour
when, at the risk of his own life, Paul's father had sacrificed his own
life for the life of his enemy? Even at that time the hand of Providence
must have been at work weaving the strange events which were still
unfolding themselves.

Paul was on the point of turning back as these thoughts flitted through
his mind when the sound of a footstep caused him to draw back hastily
into the shadow of the hedge. Scarcely had he done so than a tall, lean
figure, with head thrust forward, passed quickly by. It was Mr. Weevil.

"Where is he off to, I wonder?" thought Paul.

The master had been so concentrated in his thoughts that he had no
suspicion as to who was in hiding by the roadside. Paul's memory at once
went back to the last part of Hibbert's story--the part which he had
almost lost sight of in the overwhelming interest of the first part. Mr.
Weevil was Hibbert's uncle--Zuker's brother-in-law.

Were they in league together? Paul's glance followed Mr. Weevil along
the road. An overmastering desire seized him, a desire that he could not
resist. Instinctively, as one in a dream, he followed in the footsteps
of the master. Presently they reached Cranstead Common. Instead of
turning in the direction of the sand-pits, the battle-ground of the
Bedes and the Garsiders, Mr. Weevil turned to the left--to that part of
it which was more thickly wooded--where there were trees and
furze-bushes and bramble in wild profusion.

"Where on earth can he be going?" Paul asked himself wonderingly.

Well might he ask, for it was scarcely possible to imagine a wilder or
more solitary spot. It led to no habitation, none at least that