Half-way through the plantation the light of my lamp fell full on a white, human face dabbled in blood. It was young Gascoyne’s face, and the blue eyes were wide open and glazed in death. I saw the head and trunk to the waist. The rest of the body appeared to be beneath the ground. So strong was the illusion that I swerved aside in order not to ride over it, and in doing so fell from my machine. When I picked myself up my lamp was out and I was in total darkness. I was about to hurry forward with a mad haste to get out of the wood when I pulled myself up short. Deliberately I remained where I was, picked up my bicycle, lit my lamp and mounting leisurely rode slowly out of the plantation. With such a career as I had planned it would never do to give way to fancies. There was a light in the drawing-room as I wheeled my bicycle up the drive of the Grange. I could see Miss Gascoyne sitting by a small table with a lamp on it. At first I thought she was reading, but as I drew near I could see that the book was lying in her lap, whilst her eyes were fixed on the ground in deep reflection. She came out into the hall when she heard my voice. I thought there was an unusual animation in her appearance as she welcomed me. “Have you dined?” “Well, not exactly, but I had an enormous tea at a wayside inn.” “You look very tired.” Evidently I still looked somewhat agitated by my adventure in the pine wood. No doubt for want of another explanation it must have struck her as fatigue. “I have had rather a busy week.” We moved towards the dining-room chatting freely and pleasantly, and I could not help contrasting her present friendliness with the hauteur and strictly formal manner she had displayed at our first meeting. We sat and talked while I ate sandwiches. “Harry said he was going to meet you.” “I rather thought he might do so, and I looked out for him.” “It is very rude of him not to have done so, or not to have been at home when you came. I shall scold him severely.” She began to talk of her brother and his future. She wanted him to read for the law. Did I not think it would be the best thing? “Do you really want my candid opinion?” “Of course. You know I say what I mean.” “I think it is about the very worst profession he could follow.” “But why?” “Well, apart from the difficulty of the examinations, which in our days is no small matter, it is a profession in which patience is the most important factor. There is no other profession like it for encouraging a naturally lazy man with a small income to idle.” “I should have thought application was altogether necessary.” “Absolutely, but it is optional. He cannot get on without it, but there will be no one to see that he uses his time well. Besides, men in the law are as a rule strenuous, earnest people with all kinds of ambitions, and Harry will hardly meet sympathetics.” “Then what is he to do?”