On the instant her mood was changed. She stood still, amid the trees and bushes. With clenched fists, a new expression in her eyes, she looked behind her, first over one shoulder, then the other, then to the right and to the left, as if in search of something she had no desire to see. A sudden, strange reluctance seemed to clog her limbs. She listened: there was only the cawing of some distant rooks and the whisper of the breeze among the pines. With a laugh at her stupidity, breaking through the something which constrained her, she went striding on. But she had not gone far when a very genuine sound brought her to a halt. In itself a commonplace, there it was the most unusual of noises: it was the sound of footsteps, of some one tramping through the forest. In all the time she had known the place she had never heard a step except her own. Could it be Margaret Wallace, still lingering about the haunts she probably knew well and loved? It would be disconcerting if it were. If they met--but that was hardly a woman's step. Could it be the doctor? What was he doing in the forest on foot? Besides, she had noticed what little pattering steps he took; this person was striding. The walker was hidden from her by a clump of bracken which rose to a height of some six or seven feet. He was moving in her direction. Should she retreat? It could probably be done, and before he caught a glimpse of her. Should she advance and meet him? or should she wait until he came to her? While she hesitated, the decision was taken out of her hands. The walker, threading his way among the bracken, reached a point where the stalks were shorter. All at once she found herself confronted by--Gregory Lamb. She stared at him with as much amazement as he stared at her, and her amazement was unbounded. Possibly he was the last person with whom she would have associated the advancing footsteps; no thought of him had crossed her mind. Not improbably, since she at least had cause to suspect that he might be in the neighbourhood, his surprise was even greater than hers. He stood looking at her in bewildered silence, as if unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes. When he did speak the observation which he made was characteristic. "Well, I'm hanged!" Her retort was equally in character. "I wish you were!" "I daresay; but I rather fancy that when it does come to hanging, where you and I are concerned, it will be a case of the lady first. Where the deuce have you been all this time? and what on earth are you doing here?" "What business is that of yours? Do you know you're trespassing?" "What business is it of mine? and do I know I'm trespassing? Well, that's pretty good, considering you're my wife, and the way you've behaved. Do you happen to know that the police are scouring the country for you, and that they're only lying low because they think you're dead, or something?" "It's a lie! You're a natural born liar; you tell nothing but lies."