It was a very formidable and grim young man who, half-an-hour later, alighted on the fringes of that pleasant dell known as Jesmond Dene. Under his arm he carried the case of pistols, and the lines about his mouth were set and hard. “You will wait,” he said, addressing the cabman. “Perhaps I won’t,” returned that gentleman, who was unaccustomed to so direct an order. Eliphalet did not deign to reply, but he turned aside from the road and stepped briskly down the steep and wooded path. The moon shone serenely, casting dark violet shadows of the trees upon the grey undergrowth. He knew the way, for this had been a favourite seclusion when learning new parts, and took a short cut to the appointed place. “Here comes May,” whispered one of the concealed company from his observation-post in the bushes. “Keep your hands down, you chaps.” Eliphalet passed within a few feet of several unseen onlookers. “That _was_ May, wasn’t it?” “Couldn’t see his face.” “Must have been.” Young Manning spoke. “You’re wrong. It was Cardomay.” There was a ring of triumph in his voice. “Don’t talk rot.” “Look for yourselves, then.” Eliphalet stepped out into the clearing, and the light of the moon showed his features with a ghastly precision. One of the girls gave a nervous laugh, and several men turned to each other with apprehensive glances. “Lord, he’s turned up!” said one. “This is going too far,” said another. “We ought to stop it. Here!” A hand was clapped over his mouth by Harrington May’s staunchest supporter. “Don’t spoil the fun. He’s only bluffing.” Then Manning spoke again. “Wish I knew which way they are going to stand,” he said. “Likely as not one of us’ll pick up a stray bullet.” Hearing which, Miss Mary Neville, the ingénue, did what she was accustomed to do in plays on such occasions—fainted. Far away in the distance the Town Hall clock struck twelve. There was a general rustle, as everyone verified the time by their own watches in the little patches of moonlight. “If May finds him here there’ll be trouble.” “P’r’aps he won’t come,” volunteered Manning, and was advised to avoid folly and stupid speculation. Eliphalet laid a white kerchief on the ground—stepped out fifteen paces, and dropped another. Then he took out the pistols and examined them. This he did at the precise moment Miss Neville emerged from her faint, and caused an immediate relapse. Satisfied that all was in order with the weapons, he laid them on the top of the case. His actions were very concise, and he appeared quite composed. “Fact is, he guesses we’re here, and he’s putting up a big bluff,” whispered Harrington May’s supporter into a convenient ear. Then there was silence, faintly disturbed by the rustle of the breeze and the clucking of water dripping from the mosses of the old mill-wheel.