ivil, though he made no allusion to our former conversation.

He appeared to be still in an extreme state of nervousness, starting
from time to time, and gazing furtively about him, with little
frightened, darting glances to the right and the left. I hoped that his
daughter was right in naming the fifth of October as the turning point
of his complaint, for it was evident to me as I looked at his gleaming
eyes and quivering hands, that a man could not live long in such a state
of nervous tension.

I found on examination that he had had the loose rails securely fastened
so as to block up our former trysting-place, and though I prowled round
the whole long line of fencing, I was unable to find any other place
where an entrance could be effected.

Here and there between the few chinks left in the barrier I could catch
glimpses of the Hall, and once I saw a rough-looking, middle-aged man
standing at a window on the lower floor, whom I supposed to be Israel
Stakes, the coachman. There was no sign, however, of Gabriel or of
Mordaunt, and their absence alarmed me. I was convinced that, unless
they were under some restraint, they would have managed to communicate
with my sister or myself. My fears became more and more acute as day
followed day without our seeing or hearing anything of them.

One morning--it was the second day of October--I was walking towards the
Hall, hoping that I might be fortunate enough to learn some news of my
darling, when I observed a man perched upon a stone at the side of the
road.

As I came nearer to him I could see that he was a stranger, and from his
dusty clothes and dilapidated appearance he seemed to have come from a
distance. He had a great hunch of bread on his knee and a clasp-knife
in his hand, but he had apparently just finished his breakfast, for he
brushed the crumbs off his lap and rose to his feet when he perceived
me.

Noticing the great height of the fellow and that he still held his
weapon, I kept well to the other side of the road, for I knew that
destitution makes men desperate and that the chain that glittered on
my waistcoat might be too great a temptation to him upon this lonely
highway. I was confirmed in my fears when I saw him step out into the
centre of the road and bar my progress.

"Well, my lad," I said, affecting an ease which I by no means felt,
"what can I do for you this morning?"

The fellow's face was the colour of mahogany with exposure to the
weather, an