Probably Mr. Shadrach Nottidge had never been so surprised or terrified in all his life, as he was when a figure suddenly sprang up before him, and he felt himself caught by the throat, with a grip which threatened to choke him with the least possible delay. And, when he looked into the eyes of Philip Chater, and remembered how much cause that gentleman had for wreaking vengeance upon him, by reason of the treachery he had displayed in handing him over to the police, his fears were increased a thousand-fold. “Now—you sly sneaking villain,” whispered Philip between his teeth—“you runner and crawler for other rogues—where’s your master?” The Shady ’un, wholly unable to speak, by reason of that grip upon his throat, faintly moved his head in the direction of the hut. “Is the lady you brought here with him?” asked Philip, in the same cautious voice. The Shady ’un contrived to nod, and to screw his head again in the direction of the door; Philip, glancing at it, saw that it stood some two inches open. Giving the Shady ’un one final squeeze and shake, he flung him away, so that he fell on his back on the mud—gently pushed open the door—and crept in. The Shady ’un, the instant that Philip had disappeared into the hut, got slowly to his feet, and then scurried away in the darkness towards the streets. Inside the hut, Philip found himself in a maze of poles, and ropes, and planks, and dusty tattered sails; gliding among these—(the shed had evidently belonged to a boat-builder, and had long been abandoned)—he peered past them into the shed itself, where a faint light glimmered. As his eyes became accustomed to the twilight of the place, he saw that the light in it came from a guttering candle, thrust into the neck of a bottle, and stood upon a table. Near this table, and at the further end of the room, stood Madge Barnshaw. At the side of it nearest to where Philip stood concealed, and with his back towards the door, stood Ogledon. With his hands clasped behind his back, and his head thrust forward towards the girl, he seemed to menace her, even while he was silent. And yet, though he seemed to have her at his mercy, he had about him a dogged air of being at bay himself, and desperate. From the first words Philip heard, as he stood there in the darkness watching them, it appeared that Madge had only just reached the place, and was still ignorant of the full extent of her own danger. “You sent for me in desperate haste, Mr. Ogledon,” she said—“to tell me about Dandy Chater—to tell me the truth about him.” “Yes—I’ll tell you all the truth about Dandy Chater,” he said, sneeringly.