When he reached the Gordale road and climbed the stile into the pasture he dismissed these reflections, and concentrated his thoughts on the task that had baffled him the previous night. All was very still, but the darkness was not dense, for the sky was bright with stars as if frost was in the air. Suddenly, as he raised his eyes to the cliff that was his goal, he saw a faint light that flickered for a moment and then went out. A second or two later another appeared and was carried along the surface of the rock until its life, too, was spent. Inman stood still, but his pulse raced. Someone had anticipated him. Someone was searching the crevices which held his secret, and the result was inevitable. The overthrow of his schemes, so utterly unexpected, fell upon him with the force of a cataclysm, sweeping him from his feet and producing for a moment or two real physical dizziness. He recovered himself quickly, and as another light glimmered on the rock he hastened along, finding cover in the shadows of the high walls, though he felt sure the searcher was too busily engaged to discover his approach. By the time the next match was struck he was cowering behind a rock at the entrance to the ravine; and there was murder in his heart when he recognised the familiar form of Jagger Drake. He had dreaded it all along, though he had slighted and pushed aside the suggestion. His wife had tracked him only too well and had betrayed him to the enemy. In the moment of realisation he became desperate and thought only of vengeance, yet even so his mind set itself automatically and instantaneously to the work of counter-plotting. His fingers reached down and grasped a stone. There were few men whose aim was better than his; few whose right arm had more of weight and muscle in it. It was only necessary to stay there in hiding until the other’s feet should be on that treacherous slope of loose shingle when he would be powerless to defend himself, and one or two shots would bring him headlong to the foot of the cliff with a broken neck. If he should not be dead it would be no hard task to lend nature a hand—almost as easy as to take away the treasure-trove before any other eye should see it—and the man’s death would lie at his own door. Men would ask why the silly fool should have climbed the Scar at night. And it would be Nancy who had sent him to his fate! These thoughts flashed across his mind; were examined and rejected in a moment, for they were speedily followed by a second and better suggestion. Before another minute had passed he was making his way back, at first cautiously, then with increasing speed to the high road and the village.