There was no answer. The light came on more slowly still. Now it was fifty yards away, now twenty, now ten. Varney stepped out of the blackness, directly in front of it, and seized both handle-bars in fingers that gripped like a vise. The shock of the sudden stopping all but cost the rider his seat. "May I detain you one moment, please, Mr. Hammerton?" The little light of the bicycle lamp was all concentrated downward. Above that round yellow ray, faces were unrecognizable in the pitchy blackness. The voice, however, was unmistakable. Hammerton was off the back of his wheel in the wink of an eye, on a sudden desperate bolt for the woods. Peter, still on the driver's seat, and seeing neither his friend nor his enemy, saw the light with the bicycle behind it go over with a crash. That was when Varney's hands let go of the handle-bars. The next instant they fell upon Hammerton's withdrawing figure and brought it up with a sharp jerk. Peter heard the ensuing struggle, but saw nothing. He paid Varney the tribute of sitting still in his seat and saying not a word. The contest was bitter, but brief. Hammerton fought wildly, but Varney's arms presently closed round him, squeezing the life out of him. Locked fast in each other's arms, they fell heavily, Hammerton underneath. Varney freed his legs with a swift wrench, swung round and came up riding upon the other's chest. Charlie Hammerton was beaten and knew it. His body lay along the rocky road, inert and unresisting. He breathed in convulsive gasps, but apart from that, now that he was down, he never moved. He was as tired as a man well could be. Varney sitting closely upon him, holding him fast, felt that the reporter's clothes were wringing wet. However, he had him, and the _Cypriani's_ great secret was once more in captivity. The eyes of the two men strained into the dark where each other's faces must be, but they saw nothing. "It's all up with you, Hammerton," said Varney presently. "The _Daily_ fired you an hour ago." "Thanks to you," said Hammerton doggedly. "But if you think that lets _you_ out, you're a bigger fool than I thought." "That is not all," said Varney slowly. "The _Gazette_ has fired you, too." The reporter swore bitterly beneath his breath: curiously enough, he did not seem to question the statement for a moment. "What of it?" he cried. "You don't think that'll stop my mouth, do you--you _devil_!" "There is still something more. Maginnis has bought the _Gazette_. He and I own the news of this town now. Coligny Smith is fired, too. The _Gazette_ starts an honest life to-morrow, and the old dirty regime is over forever." "Liar!" cried Hammerton, hoarsely. "Liar!" but there was no conviction in the mad resentment of his voice. "No," said Varney, without anger. "I am telling you the truth and you know it."