Every moment the mystery grew darker. Jane Payland liked her mistress; but there were two things which she liked still better. Those two things were power and gain. She perceived in the possession of her lady's secrets a high-road to the mastery of both. Thus it happened that, when she had very nearly arrived at the lobby where the boy was waiting, Jane Payland suddenly changed her mind, and darted off in another direction. She hurried along a narrow passage, up the servants' staircase, and into her own room. Here she remained for some fifteen or twenty minutes, occupied with some task which required the aid of a lighted candle. At the end of that time she emerged, with a triumphant smile upon her thin lips, and Lady Eversleigh's letter in her hand. The seal which secured the envelope was a blank seal; but it was not the same as the one with which Honoria Eversleigh had fastened her letter half an hour before. The abigail carried the letter to the boy, and the boy departed, very well pleased to get clear of the castle without having received any further reproof. He went at his best speed to the little inn, where he inquired for Mr. Brown. That gentleman emerged presently from the inn-yard, where he had been hanging about, listening to all that was to be heard, and talking to the ostler. He took the letter from the boy's hand, and rewarded him with the promised shilling. Then he left the yard, and walked down a lane leading towards the river. In this unfrequented lane he tore open the envelope, and read his letter. It was very brief: "_Since my only chance of escaping persecution is to accede, in some measure, to your demands, I will consent to see you. If you will wait for me to-night, at nine o'clock, by the water-side, to the left of the bridge, I will try to come to that spot at that hour. Heaven grant the meeting may be our last_!" Exactly as the village church clock struck nine, a dark figure crossed a low, flat meadow, lying near the water, and appeared upon the narrow towing-path by the river's edge. A man was walking on this pathway, his face half hidden by a slouched hat, and a short pipe in his month. He lifted his hat presently, and bared his head to the cool night breeze. His hair was closely cropped, like that of a convict. The broad moonlight shining fall upon his face, revealed a dark, weather-beaten countenance--the face of the tramp who had stood at the park-gates to watch the passing of Sir Oswald's funeral train--the face of the tramp who had loitered in the stable-yard of the "Hen and Chickens"--the face of the man who had been known in Ratcliff Highway by the ominous name of Black Milsom. This was the man who waited for Honoria Eversleigh in the moonlight by the quiet river. He advanced to meet her as she came out of the meadow and appeared upon the pathway.