it would be concealed by the tall grass and
underwood which grew around. The Baron stood trembling and quaking in
his boots, every moment expecting to be discovered, while he felt sure
that the face of which he had caught a glimpse was no other than that of
the jealous rival.

He listened anxiously; he could hear the cracking of the boughs, and
then the sound of footsteps approaching. Nearer and nearer drew the
footsteps; presently he heard an exclamation of surprise.

"Why, this is the hat of one of them," said a voice.

"Yes; it is that of the fat, ridiculous little man who pretended to be a
Baron," answered a female voice.

Was it possible? Yes, the Baron felt sure that the voice was that of
the fair Vrouw Margaret on whom he had placed his affections.

"Little doubt whose hat it is," observed the first speaker. "Very
likely his pockets are even now full of your father's and Mynheer
Baskerville's plate. What shall we do with him if we catch him?"

"I must leave him to your tender mercies," said Vrouw Margaret. "As he
deceived us so grossly I cannot plead for him. Punish him as you think
fit, and then let him go, if he will promise not to come near our house
again."

"We have not caught him yet, though," observed Mynheer Bunckum. "But
here come my men, and we'll make a thorough search in the
neighbourhood."

The Baron at this trembled more and more; while Mynheer Bunckum and
Vrouw Margaret were speaking he heard several other persons approaching,
who had, he judged by the remarks they let fall, been searching in vain
for the Count. No one seemed to remark the hole in the tree; indeed,
probably judging by the Baron's figure, they did not suppose that he
could have crawled into it.

"The chances are the two went off together," remarked one of the
keepers, "and by this time they are well out of the park."

"But what about this head-piece?" said Mynheer Bunckum, holding up the
Baron's hat.

"He may have dropped it in his flight," said the keeper.

"If that is the case, we ought to be still pursuing them," said Mynheer
Bunckum. "On, my men, and bring them back to me dead or alive! Come,
Vrouw Margaret, we will continue our ramble; really, it is scarcely
worth while to take so much trouble about the capture of these
contemptible people, were it not to recover your father's and Mynheer
Baskerville's plate."

They had gone but a short distance when they observed one of the keepers
returning.

"I