I've told him to wire."

The money-lender snarled like a dog; his brilliant idea had proved of
no good. He stormed and stormed; Tinker was cheerful, but indifferent.
He thrust a rug he had brought with him through the window, summoned
his phantom band, and rode away.

Mr. Lambert spent a gloomy, but, thanks to the soothing of his stomach,
a not uncomfortable day. He was very sad that he had lost the chance
of swindling Sir Tancred Beauleigh out of 1450 pounds; and his sadness
and an occasional twinge of rheumatism filled him with thoughts of
revenge. Slowly he formed a plan of disabling Tinker by an unexpected
kick when he opened the door, thrashing him within an inch of his life,
riding off on his pony, and leaving him helpless, to starve or not,
according as he might be found. This plan was a real comfort to him.
He passed an unhaunted night; and next morning Tinker brought him more
food. For some hours he played at robber baron, and now and again held
conversations about the money-lender with his band. None of them
contained compliments. Mr. Lambert watched him with a sulky malignity,
and matured his plan.

The next morning he awoke late, but very cheerful at the prospect of
freedom and revenge. He came to the window rubbing his hands joyfully,
and saw a little parcel hanging from the bars. He opened it, and found
the key of the door, a little compass, and a letter. Swearing at his
vanished chance of revenge, he opened it; it ran:

Fly at once. Steer N. E. for Tulyspathe. Hamish believes you are
uncanny, and has molded a silver bullet out of a half crown to lay your
resless spirrit with. His rifel is oldfashuned, but he will not miss
and waist the half crown he is so thriffty.

A SEKRET WORNER.

Mr. Lambert steered N.E. at once; he went not like the wind, but as
much like the wind as his soft, short legs would carry him. He scanned
every bush and gully with fearful eyes; he gave every thicket a wide
berth, and every time he saw Hamish, and he saw him behind a thousand
bushes and boulders, he shouted: "I'm Mr. Lambert from London, I'm not
a spirit!"

It was, indeed, a wasted and dirty money-lender who reached Tullispaith
late in the day. He had but one thought in his mind, to fly
immediately after dinner from this expansive and terrifying country.
He wired to his guests not to come; he discharged his servants; and as
he crossed the border next day, he bade farewell to the stern and wild
Cal