l a man turn who would escape
from himself?

For two long hours he wandered on caring not which way he took, and
feeling himself step by step closer beset by his dismal forebodings.
Presently he found himself beyond the park boundaries on the open downs
which stretched to the edge of the cliff. The touch of the salt sea-
breeze on his fevered brow startled him and made him shiver. The last
gleam of daylight was fading in the west, and when presently it
flickered out and left him in the dark, he felt that the last ray of his
own hope had vanished too. And yet, strange as it may seem, this man
had never been quite as honest with himself as he was now. The game was
fairly up. He had long since given up deluding himself that he was
better than he seemed. Now the time was come when it hardly seemed
worth while to delude other people. It was no use. Nor, to such a pass
had he come, did it seem much use to be a coward. The dog whose last
hope has gone will gather himself together for a final fling at his
persecutors; the poltroon driven back against the wall, unable to
retreat farther, will sometimes turn and make a stand such as he never
deemed himself capable of before. And so Captain Oliphant, because he
could do nothing else, plucked up a little courage and groped about in
the dark for some new fragments of his lost manhood.

He would go back and face the worst. If he was to be ruined, he would
pull the mask off himself, and not leave it to Armstrong or any one else
to do it. Whatever befell, nothing could well be more wretched than the
plight in which he now stood. He had no amends to make, but he could at
least simplify the labours of those whose business it was to expose and
punish him. With which poor spark of resolution he turned dismally to
go back to Maxfield.

As he did so he became aware of footsteps close at hand on the cliff-
path. Whoever the passenger might be--at such an hour and place it was
not likely to be any one but a coastguard or a fisherman--Captain
Oliphant was in no mood for company. He therefore stepped off the path
and sat down on a seat on the edge of the cliff till the intruder had
passed.

It was not so dark but that the latter perceived the movement, and
halting suddenly, said--

"Who's that?"

The voice was that of Mr Ratman. What brought him here at this moment,
to extinguish, perhaps, the little gleam of courage that flickered in
the breast of his wretched dupe?