The circumference of the Chase enclosure measured fully ten miles, but there was barely a yard of the space that was not known to the gypsy-bred lad, who had been familiarized with it in bygone poaching days of childhood long before the period when, as a decently dressed and apparently respectable lad, he had applied for and obtained a situation about the dairy farm on the property. Very soon his usefulness caused him to be promoted. He had “ways” with horses, dogs, cows, and sheep; could repair a fence or sow a field, break in a horse or administer medicine to a sick dog, with equal cleverness. He was, so his fellow-servants decided, inordinately proud and unsociable, for what reason none of them could satisfactorily fathom. He broke in Sir Philip’s hunters and taught Miss Cranstoun to ride, being himself little more than three years older than she. He did not drink, and had, so far as others knew, neither sweetheart nor friends; yet now and then he would mysteriously disappear for hours together, nor would he afterward even attempt to explain his absences. The evening was closing in as he made his way in and out the undergrowth in a direct cut through the wood; and it was only after more than an hour of very rapid walking that he began to slacken his speed. The trees grew very closely together at this point, so closely, indeed, that it seemed impossible to force a path between them. But Stephen knew the track and could almost have found it blindfold, and after about a quarter of an hour more of difficult walking he came upon an open space of grassy mounds, crowned by the ruins of an ancient hunting tower, dating back to a very early period, of which, however, little more than four stout ivy-hung walls, and a portion of a low battlemented tower remained. The ruin was not large enough to be imposing, nor had it any known historical interest. Very few people knew of its existence, as it was not discernible over the tops of the tall trees by which it was surrounded; yet that it was known to at least one person was evident now, for from the ruined tower a thin blue line of smoke rose into the clear evening air. No way of entering the ruin was visible, the base of the tower and of the low building attached to it being blocked up by rubble, by overgrown bushes, and by fallen masonry. But Stephen Lee made straight for a portion of the ruin heavily veiled with ivy, and removing this with one hand, he came upon a low archway of stonework completely blocked by a solid wooden door. Upon this he tapped with the handle of a knife he carried in his belt, and softly whistled. The signal was answered, and the sound of a rusty bolt being withdrawn was the prelude to the apparition of old Sarah Carewe’s face in the doorway.