The woman in front spared no precaution to guard against pursuit. She stopped many times and listened; she doubled on her tracks; and as soon as she reached the woodland belt she proved to be an expert in the art of taking cover. But she had to do with probably the most wily exponent of woodcraft at that moment in England, and her pursuer was never at fault. Dark as the night was, Azimoolah never lost her for an instant. With sinuous movements that never caused a twig to crack, the lithe Pathan was always creeping, gliding, dodging close behind, till he stopped within ten paces of the park wall, and from the shelter of an oak trunk watched his quarry nimbly climb the obstacle. No sooner had she disappeared than he swung himself to the top of the wall, and peered over just as a horse broke into a trot on the other side. Piercing the gloom, his keen sight distinguished the shape of a fast-receding rubber-tired dog-cart, in which three figures were seated; and, having fulfilled his mission, he dropped back to the ground. In a few minutes he was on the terrace again, hissing like a cobra outside the smoking-room. General Sadgrove opened the French casement. "The daughter of Sheitan came from the fifth window, and has gone away, even as the sahib predicted, in the cart with two men," Azimoolah reported. "Which road did they take?" "To the left—the Senalban road, sahib." "St. Albans, eh? Then she’s going to catch the 3.15 up night mail," muttered the General. "Well, good-night, old _jungle-wallah_. You’ve got your orders," he added, closing and bolting the window. The next morning there were two absentees from the breakfast-table—General Sadgrove, who by overnight arrangement had breakfasted by himself, so as to be driven to Tarrant Road in time for the nine o’clock train to town, and Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, who was confined to her bed by a bad headache. The news of the indisposition was imparted to Sybil by the maid Rosa at her mistress’s door, and was accompanied by a regretful but firm refusal of admission to the patient. "Madame is so _désolée_ not to receive you, ma’amselle, but she ’ave ze malady too strr-rong for speak even with her dearest friend," was the ultimatum which sent Miss Hanbury from the door with a doleful face, which somehow took quite a different expression when she had turned the corner.