"'I was wearing an old shooting-jacket with many pockets, so that I had no difficulty in stowing away my booty. I was putting away the last handful when a noise behind me made me start and look round. There was just enough starlight to enable me to discern the figure of a man standing at the open, window and gazing into the room. Flashing a ray from my lantern across his face, I at once recognised the man as Hubert Stone. A moment later he had vaulted over the low window-sill into the room. 'Surrender, you villain,' he cried, 'or it will be worse for you!' I did not answer, but moved noiselessly in the darkness over the soft carpet to another corner of the room. He was evidently nonplussed, and after standing still for a moment or two I could just make out his figure as he advanced slowly but in a direction opposite to the spot where I was standing. Now was my opportunity. I made a rush for the window, reached it, and was leaping from it; when, as ill-luck would have it, my foot caught against the slightly-raised framework, and I fell face downward on to the gravelled pathway. Hurt and bleeding, I regained my feet, but only to find myself enclosed by the stalwart arms of young Stone. 'Surrender!' he said again. Again I made no answer, hoping he had not recognised me, and a desperate struggle began between us: but he was the younger and the stronger, and presently we were rolling over each other on the ground. It must have been then that I lost the sleeve-link; which loss has led to all the mischief as regards myself. Although I could by no means get away from Stone, he was unable altogether to overpower me. Suddenly, while holding me down with his right hand, with his left he drew from some inner pocket a closed knife, which, with the help of his teeth, he presently contrived to open. 'If you will not surrender,' he said, 'I will mark you so that you can be traced wherever you go.' What he was about to do I know not, but I suddenly struck up my arm, and the knife flew out of his hand. His object was now to regain possession of it, while mine was to keep him from doing so. We were still struggling on the ground; when, I know not how it was, but suddenly my fingers felt the knife as it lay among the gravel. I gripped it instinctively and drew it towards me, and Stone perceived that I had got it. He bent suddenly forward to regain possession of it, but as he did so the point slipped and penetrated deep into his chest. A short sharp cry broke from his lips, he sprang to his feet at a single bound, threw up his hands, staggered a pace or two, groaned, and fell on his face--no doubt dead.