Rolph stopped short, completely astounded upon seeing, not two yards away, the statue-like figure of Alleyne, with arms folded, leaning against a tree, thoroughly intent upon his thoughts. For some time neither Rolph nor Alleyne spoke, the latter being profoundly ignorant of the presence of the former. The shadows of the fir wood, as well as those of Alleyne's mind, were to blame for this, for where Rolph had paused the moonbeams had not touched, and though Alleyne's eyes were turned in that direction, they were filmed by the black darkness of the future, a deep shadow that he could not pierce. But by degrees, as the great golden shield, whose every light or speck was as familiar to him as his daily life, swept slowly on, a broad bar of darkness passed to his left, revealing first a part, then the whole of Sir Robert Rolph's figure, as he stood scowling there, his hands in his pockets, and puff after puff of smoke coming from his lips. Some few moments glided by before Alleyne realised the truth. He had been thinking so deeply--so bitterly of his rival, that it seemed as if his imagination had evoked this figure, and that his nerves had been so overstrained that this was some waking dream. Then came the reaction, making him start violently, as Rolph emitted a tremendous cloud of smoke, and then said shortly, without taking his cigar from his lips,-- "How do?" "Captain Rolph!" cried Alleyne, finding speech at last. "That's me. Well, what is it?" There was another pause, for what appeared to be an interminable time. Alleyne wished to speak, but his lips were sealed. Years of quiet, thoughtful life had made him, save when led on by some object in which he took deep interest, slow of speech, while now the dislike, more than the disgust this man caused him, seemed to have robbed him of all power of reply. "Confounded cad!" thought Rolph; "he is watching;" and then, aloud, "Star-gazing and mooning?" The bitterly contemptuous tone in which this was said stung Alleyne to the quick, and he replied, promptly,-- "No." There was something in that tone that startled Rolph for the moment, but he was of too blunt and heavy a nature to detect the subtle meaning a tone of voice might convey, and, seizing the opportunity that had come to him, he ran at it with the clumsiness of a bull at some object that offends its eye. "Hang the cad, there couldn't be a better chance," he said to himself; and, adopting the attitude popular with cavalry officers not largely addicted to brains, he straddled as if on horseback, and setting his feet down as though he expected each heel to make the rowel of a spur to ring, he walked straight up to Alleyne, smoking furiously, and puffed a cloud almost into his face. "Look here, Mr--Mr--er--Alleyne," he said, loudly, "I wanted to talk to you, and present time seems as suitable as any other time." Alleyne had recovered himself, and bowed coldly.