Thurston was almost sure that it was
the rustle of a woven fabric, such as a woman's dress. To confirm this
opinion a soft laugh followed. He rose, deciding it could only be some
assignation with a maid from the Hall, and no business of his. He had
turned to retreat when he noticed the eastern side of a silver fir
reflect a faint shimmer. Glancing along the beam of light that
filtered through a fantastic fretwork of delicate birch twigs arching a
drive, he saw a broad, bright disk hanging low above the edge of the
moor. It struck him that perhaps the poachers had used the girl to
coax information out of a young groom or keeper, and that she was now
warning them. So he waited, debating, because he was a rudely
chivalrous person, how he might secure the girl's companion without
involving the girl's disgrace. Again a laugh rose from beyond a
thicket. Then he heard the voice of a man.

Geoffrey was puzzled, for the laugh was musical, unlike a rustic
giggle; and, though the calling of the beck partly drowned it, the
man's voice did not resemble that of a laborer. Thurston moved again,
wondering whether it was not some affair of Leslie's from the Hall, and
whether he ought not to slip away after all. The birch boughs sighed a
little, there was a fluttering down of withered leaves, and he remained
undecided, gripping his stout oak cudgel by the middle. Then the hot
blood pulsed fiercely through every artery, for the voice rose once
more, harsh and clear this time, with almost a threat in the tone, and
there was no possibility of doubting that the speaker was Leslie.

"This cannot continue, Millicent," the voice said. "It has gone on too
long, and I will not be trifled with. You cannot have both of us, and
my patience is exhausted. Leave the fool to his folly."

Geoffrey raised the cudgel and dropped it to his side. Turning
suddenly cold, he remained for a second or two almost without power of
thought or motion. The disillusion was cruel. The woman's light
answer filled him with returning fury and he hurled himself at a
thicket from which, amid a crash of branches, he reeled out into the
sight of the speakers. The moon was well clear of the moor now, and
silver light and inky shadow checkered the mosses of the drive.

With a little scream of terror Millicent sprang apart from her
companion's side and stood for a space staring at the man who had
appeared out of the rent-down undergrowth. The pale light beat