"I must go," cried Christabel. "Think how long we have stayed behind the others. We shall set people wondering." She sprang lightly from the bridge to the bank, and came quickly up the rocky path, a narrow winding track, which closely skirted the spot where Leonard stood concealed by the broad leaves of a chestnut. She might almost have heard his hurried breathing, she might almost have seen the lurid eyes of his dogs, gleaming athwart the rank undergrowth; but she stepped lightly past, and vanished from the watcher's sight. De Cazalet followed. "Christabel, stop," he exclaimed; "I must have your answer now. My fate hangs upon your words. You cannot mean to throw me over. I have planned everything. In three days we shall be at Pesth--secure from all pursuit." He was following in Christabel's track, but he was not swift enough to overtake her, being at some disadvantage upon that slippery way, where the moss-grown slabs of rock offered a very insecure footing. As he spoke the last words, Christabel's figure disappeared among the trees upon the higher ground above him, and a broad herculean hand shot out of the leafy background, and pinioned him. "Scoundrel--profligate--impostor!" hissed a voice in his ear, and Leonard Tregonell stood before him--white, panting, with flecks of foam upon his livid lips. "Devil! you have corrupted and seduced the purest woman that ever lived. You shall answer to me--her husband--for your infamy." "Oh! is that your tune?" exclaimed the Baron, wrenching his arm from that iron grip. They were both powerful men--fairly matched in physical force, cool, hardened by rough living. "Is that your game? I thought you didn't mind." "You dastardly villain, what did you take me for?" "A common product of nineteenth-century civilization," answered the other, coolly. "One of those liberal-minded husbands who allow their wives as wide a license as they claim for themselves." "Liar," cried Leonard, rushing at him with his clenched fist raised to strike. The Baron caught him by the wrist--held him with fingers of iron. "Take care," he said. "Two can play at that game. If it comes to knocking a man's front teeth down his throat I may as well tell you that I have given the 'Frisco dentists a good bit of work in my time. You forget that there's no experience of a rough-and-ready life that you have had which I have not gone through twice over. If I had you in Colorado we'd soon wipe off this little score with a brace of revolvers." "Let Cornwall be Colorado for the nonce. We could meet here as easily as we could meet in any quiet nook across the Channel, or in the wilds of America. No time like the present--no spot better than this." "If we had only the barkers," said de Cazalet, "but unluckily we haven't."