If ever youth went forth blindfolded on a reckless, wild adventure, I surely was that youth; if ever mind was nearly bursting with a hare-brained folly, such certainly was Michael Fane’s as he passed out into the darkness of that fateful night. Yet, had I been assured that Death himself was waiting to embrace me in his icy clasp, ’tis certain I would still have gone. Fate urged me on, nor did I need much driving. As I have said, the night was dark, the moon being hidden by a mighty bank of clouds: and naught was to be seen save here and there a twinkling light among the distant houses of the town, where doubtless some late sitters talked upon the happenings of that stirring day, or those engaged upon rebellion laid their plans. Thus I had nothing more than chance to guide me to the spot where the two tell-tale lights had drawn so close together and then vanished. Going full cautiously, stopping every now and then to listen, I crept across the open space which lay between me and the cliffs. Bush and bracken broke the ground at intervals, and thus, with no clear path discernible in such a darkness, it behoved me to move warily, lest by stumbling I might warn instead of catch. Thus going in and out among the shrubs and ferns, and ever moving like some beast of prey, I came at length upon the narrow path which runs along the cliff-top. There, beaten, and inclined to curse my foolishness, I stood straight up and listened. A rabbit scuttered somewhere close at hand, the sea moaned plaintively upon the shore below me, but not another sound was to be heard; it seemed, indeed, as though the silence whispered of my folly! Had, then, my eyes deceived me? Had a seething, maddened brain struck lights where no lights were! It seemed so; or, if not, the bearers of those lights had gone their way, for I was certain that I was not far from where they had thus strangely met and disappeared. Yes, truly, I was minded to call one Michael Fane a fool! Stay, though, what was that? A hundred yards or so away, across the scrub, I caught the sudden twinkle of a lantern. With bated breath I watched it for a moment, then, dropping down upon the ground, moved towards it like a slinking tiger. Scarcely had I started ere the light vanished just as quickly as it came, but that did not stop me. On hands and knees, feeling for every bush, I crawled on through the darkness. The cracking of the tiniest twig seemed like a gunshot to my anxious, straining ears, my tight-held breathing like the roaring of a grampus. So slow and stealthy were my movements that a score yards took near half as many minutes: and having covered double that without result except a good array of scratches, I had again begun to doubt my eyes and mutter at my folly, when, as I paused a moment to consider matters, a sound like that of humming voices reached me from ahead.