Mellen could see his wife's face plainly--for she passed near him quite unconsciously. It was pale and wild with the fear of a hunted animal. "Traitoress!" he muttered between his teeth, "she thinks to evade me." He watched the slow progress of Gipsy as she walked toward the house, taking the lawn, evidently because her rider feared to give warning of her expedition by the sound of hoofs on the beaten track. He saw Elizabeth dismount unaided, and go wearily into the house. Where had she been? Over and over Mellen asked himself this question, as he sat minute after minute, pondering over the most bitter thoughts that ever haunted a man's brain. It might have been an hour after, when he saw a man coming up from the direction of the village, walking forward with great rapid strides. Instantly his suspicions fell upon this new object. He was always keen-sighted enough, but just then the thought in his mind made his vision still quicker and more clear. Without pausing for an instant's reflection he darted down the hill--as he approached the figure it disappeared. On into the woods Mellen followed the intruder, and before he could look around grasped his arm with a clutch so firm that there was no shaking it off. "Rascal!" he cried, "what are you doing here? Answer me, or I'll shake you to pieces!" The man struggled violently, but Mellen was like a giant in his passion, and swung him to and fro as if he had been a child. "Let me alone!" cried the man. "I ain't a doing no harm!" "What are you prowling about my house for, then? Do you know that I am master here? I shall take you indoors, and keep you till I can send for a constable. Take care, no resistance; what is your business here?" "I wasn't prowling round," pleaded the man, gasping for breath in Mellen's hard grasp; "I thought these woods was public property." "Then you shall be taught. You had some errand here--speak out, or by the Lord I'll kill you!" "Don't--don't! You're choking me!" groaned the wretch. "Then speak! What are you doing here--whom do you want to see?" "Just let me go and I'll tell you," pleaded his prisoner. "I can't speak while you're throttling me." Mellen loosened his grasp on the man's throat, but still held him fast. His hold had been a fearful one--the man was actually breathless. "Will you speak now?" he demanded, with terrible menace in his voice. The man began to breathe more freely; but, though shaking with fear, he answered sullenly: "I hain't got nothin' to tell; I was going to the house yonder, and took a short cut through here." "What business have you at the house? Tell me the truth, for I will know." The man could both see and feel that he was in horrible earnest; he might easily have supposed himself in the power of an insane man--and for the moment Mellen was little better. "How do I know that you have a right to ask?" questioned the man. "I am the master of that house. Now will you speak?"