She was shrouded in a long, hooded cloak, but my sickened senses knew her even before she put back the hood to glance stealthily about her, like the shameful, guilty thing she was. Suddenly she shrank, cowering, as upon the air broke a strange, inarticulate cry that I knew for my own; an unseen hand plucked her back, the door closed, was locked and swiftly bolted, and I heard the sound of running feet. And now, all too late, I sprang to smite this accursed door with maddened fists, to beat it with pistol butt and utter incoherent shouts and ravings. All at once my arm was in a powerful grip, the pistol twisted out of my hold and I glared up into the face of Anthony. His hat was gone, he swayed gently on his feet, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse and indistinct. "What's t' do, old fellow--dev'lish din you're making--most infernal. Won't they open th' curst door t' ye then, Perry? Well--never mind--take a pull at this--nothing like brandy--" From capacious pocket he drew forth a bottle and held it towards me, which I forthwith dashed against the wall. "And now," said I, "give me the pistol!" "What for?" he demanded, sobered a little. "Because I purpose to shoot him." "Who, Perry?" "Trenchard or Haredale or Devereux or whatever he calls himself. Come, give me the pistol. To-night I make an end of him and his deviltries once and for all." For a moment Anthony blinked at me in foolish amaze. "Why, Perry--why, Perry!" he exclaimed. "B'gad, can this be you indeed?" And then, as if quite sobered by what he read in my face, he fell back a step, brushed hand across his eyes, peered at me again, and his slouching figure grew erect and purposeful. "Give me that pistol!" I repeated. "No, Peregrine!" said he, his voice sharp and incisive. "Killing is murder, and I am your friend. But if you wish to fight a fellow, or say twenty fellows, b'gad, I'm with you! The more the merrier--so speak the word!" "Yes!" said I. "Yes, I'll fight, but kill him I will--it almost seems preordained that I should kill him from the beginning--" "And whom did you say he was, Perry?" "Trenchard he calls himself hereabouts--the damnable villain who lives here at Raydon Manor." "A duel!" quoth Anthony, smiling grimly. "If you fight, Perry, I fight; b' God, I'll find somebody to accommodate me one way or another--a duel, oh, most excellent! Ha, dooce take me, but you're right, Perry, I never thought o' this. Oh, damme, the very thing--I'm with you heart and soul, dear fellow, so come on." So saying, he ran at the wall and, leaping with long arms at full stretch, gripped the coping with iron fingers, drew himself up and reaching long arm down, had swung me up beside him, all in a moment.