"Paul Drayton," he said, and the man shrunk under his touch and slowly turned his face full upon him. When their eyes met Hugh Ritson saw what he had expected to see--the face of Paul Ritson. In that low, red light, every feature was the same. By the swift impulse of sense it seemed as if it could be the same man and no other; as if Paul Drayton and Paul Ritson were one man. Drayton got on to his feet with an uncertain shuffle, and then in a moment the hallucination was dispelled. He kicked, with a heavy boot, at the slumbering coals, and the fire broke into a sharp crackle and bright blaze. The white light fell on his face. It was a fine face brutalized by excess. The features were strong, manly, and impressive. What God had done was very good; but the eyes were bleared, and the lips discolored, and the expression, which might have been frank, was sullen. "I don't wonder that you were tired after your journey; it was a long one," said Hugh Ritson. He affected an easy manner, but there was a tremor in his voice. "You caught the early Scotch mail from Penrith," he added, and drew a bench nearer to the fire and sat down. Drayton made a half-dazed scrutiny of his visitor, and said: "Damme, if you're not the fence as was here afore, criss-crossing at our old woman! Tell us your name." The voice was husky, but it had, nevertheless, a note or two of the voice of Paul Ritson. "That will be unnecessary," said Hugh Ritson, with complete self-possession. "We've met before," he added, smiling. "The deuce we have--where?" "You slept at the Pack Horse at Keswick rather more than a week ago," said Hugh. Drayton betrayed no surprise. "Last Saturday night you were active at the fire that almost destroyed the old mill at Newlands." Drayton's sullen face was immovable. "By the way," said Hugh, elevating his voice and affecting a sudden flow of spirits, "I owe you my personal thanks for your exertions. What do you drink--brandy?" Going to the door, he called for a bottle of brandy and glasses. "Then, again, on Monday night," he added, turning into the room, "you did me the honor to visit my own house." Drayton was still standing. "I know you," he said. "Shall I tell you your name?" Hugh smiled with undisturbed humor. "That also will be unnecessary," he said; and leisurely drew off his gloves. "What d'ye want? I ain't got no time to waste--that's flat." "Well, let me see, it's just ten o'clock," said Hugh Ritson, taking out his watch. "I want you to earn twenty pounds before twelve." Mr. Drayton gave vent to a grim laugh. "I'll pound it as I'm fly to what that means! You're looking to earn two hundred before midnight." Mr. Drayton gave Hugh a sidelong glance of great astuteness. Hugh lifted his eyebrows and shook his head. "Money is not my object." "Oh, it ain't, eh? Well, I'm not afraid for you to know as it's mine--very much so." And Mr. Drayton gave vent to another grim laugh.