Of a sudden I heard a sound. It was quite distinct, like a half-suppressed cough. I halted in surprise, but no other sound reached my ear. Could I have been mistaken? The noise seemed very human, yet I knew that in the darkness of night the most usual sound becomes exaggerated and distorted. Therefore reassured I continued my way by the narrow, unfrequented path, which, leaving the lake-side, struck across the park and led me across a stile into a dark belt of wood. Scarcely had I entered it, however, when I heard human voices distinctly. I halted and listened. An owl hooted weirdly, and there was a dead silence. I wondered whether the persons I had surprised had detected my presence. I stood upon the narrow path holding my breath so that I could catch every sound. A couple of minutes passed. To me they seemed as hours. Then, again, the voices sounded away to the left, apparently on the edge of the wood. Noiselessly I retraced my steps to the stile, and then found that from it there ran a path beside the iron railing, whither I knew not. But somewhere down that path two persons were in consultation. Treading carefully, so that my footsteps should not be overheard, I crept down the path until, of a sudden, I caught sight of a woman's white dress in the gloom. Then, sufficiently close to overhear, I halted with strained ears. I was hidden behind a high hazel bush, but could just distinguish against that reddish glare which shines in the sky of the outskirts of London on a summer's night, two silhouettes, those of a man and a woman. The former had halted, and was leaning against the railing, while the latter, with a shawl twisted about her shoulders, stood facing him. "If you had wished you could certainly have met me before this," the man was grumbling. "I've waited at the stile there a solid hour. Besides, it was a risky business with so many people about." "I told you not to come here," she answered; and in an instant I recognised the voice. They were the sweet, musical tones of the woman who was my wife. "Of course," laughed her companion sardonically. "But, you see, I prefer the risk." And I knew by the deep note that the man who stood by her was the Major. "Why?" she inquired. "The risk is surely mine in coming out to meet you?" "Bah! women can always make excuses," he laughed. "I should not have made this appointment if it were not imperative that we should meet." "Well?" she sighed. "What do you want of me now?" "I want to talk to you seriously." "With the usual request to follow," she observed wearily. "You want money--eh?" "Money? Oh no," he said, with bitter sarcasm. "I can do without it. I can live on air, you know." "That's better than prison fare, I should have thought," she answered grimly. "Ah, now, my dear, you're sarcastic," he said, with a touch of irony. "That doesn't become you." "Well, tell me quickly what you want, and let me get back, or they will miss me."