I had received, I say, about half-a-dozen of Mr Gardiner’s communications, covering a space of ten or twelve weeks, when an event occurred. I was sitting in my little room about eleven o’clock at night; I had just finished some correspondence-work connected with the paper, and had just lighted a cigar and settled back into my chair with a Homeric sigh of relief, when there was a knock at the door; and the next moment, without waiting for the least countersign of any sort, a figure entered. I tipped my chair back until I very nearly lost my balance at the unexpected aspect presented by my unceremonious visitor—a tall, athletic man with a shaggy, light-coloured beard, dressed in ordinary bushman’s garb, pistols in his belt, and a carbine at his back, his face hidden by a mask. Such outwardly was my visitor—a sufficiently awkward and disquieting figure thus suddenly to present itself at the dead of night to a harmless country editor armed with no fire-weapon more deadly than a cigar. My first thought was how the fellow had got into the house; but this and all other thoughts were quickly dispersed by my new friend addressing me: “Good-evening, Mr Fellgate.” “Good-evening, Mr—— I beg your pardon; you have the advantage of me.” “I’ve a little bit of business with you—never mind my name. I would have sent up my card, but I’ve forgotten my card-case.” This symptom of a vein of humour—thin as it was—in my guest, reassured me a little. “I am very much at your service, I am sure,” I replied. “Anything I can do to”—— “That’s it, boss. I was sure you wouldn’t cut up anyway rough about the business; and we on our side ’ll try to make it pleasant all round for you. Well, the business simply is that you’re to come along with me, Mr Fellgate; and the sooner we’re off, the better for all parties.” I did not quite expect this, and my visitor’s proposal had no great charms. “You mean that I am to accompany you, wherever you are going to, now—at once?” “That’s it. That’s my order. So hurry up, Mr Editor; and just think of others besides yourself. My neck’s half-way in the halter at this blessed moment.” The man spoke in the coolest and most determined manner, and I at once saw that any further attempt at resistance would be worse than useless. “One word more, Mr Fellgate,” my companion continued. “If you follow me quietly and without any row, no harm will come to you. I promise you that, on my word as between gentlemen.” This should perhaps have been completely reassuring. Nevertheless, it was with some considerable feeling of doubt and disquiet that I prepared to accompany the bushranger, for such and nothing short the man evidently was. We left the house noiselessly. The aged lady who acted for me in the capacity of housekeeper had long since retired, and our cautious footsteps did not disturb her. Outside, tethered to a rail-fence at a little distance from the house, stood two horses.