His first thought was to proceed at once to the Towers and challenge Lord Wentworth to mortal combat. His second to strive and prevent their union by subtle and well-laid schemes. Second thoughts are best. If he fought the Earl, one of them would certainly fall. Supposing he did! His life was now hateful. He did not care--it might be relief! But then that would not prevent Ellen's being united to his foe. She would forget him--be happy--be loved--be rich--the thought was hell! Again, supposing he killed his antagonist--she would perhaps die of grief--die cursing him! that would be sweet revenge, but she would not be his any the more; he loved her still, despite his vow: he must possess her, or die! For his second thoughts, if he could prevent their union,--if he could so manage that the Earl married another,--if he could get Ellen to forget, to cease to admire him,--the vanishing spark of love might yet be fanned bright and glowing as it was of yore; she might yet love him again,--she might yet be his bride--his own, his beautiful Ellen! Yes, this was his plan, and she was once more beloved--his vow of endless hatred forgotten! But how was he to effect his purpose? His plot was good, how was it to be carried out? He knew the noble family, but could not presume on his acquaintance. He was a friend of the Captain's, and a bright thought struck him. He would enlist the Captain on his side! He knew him to be a bad man--a deist, or the next thing to it--a hard drinker--a bold blasphemer--'game,' as he said, for anything, however wild. The last thing in the world the Captain would like was his brother's marriage, as he had contracted vast debts on the presumption of his succeeding to the coronet; but the difficulty was how he could make the plot palatable to this bad man, for unless he was to benefit he knew very well the Captain would first "see him and his plans at the devil!" And one like this, where neither woman nor gold fell to his share, he would never enter into. Could he get some hold over the Captain--something that compromised his liberty, or life--he might have a chance, was his next thought. He knew there was many a crime that could be laid at his door, but woe to the rash fool who dared to do so. There was not such a duellist in the kingdom, and the Captain would call his accuser out and kill him. No, this would never do, and L'Estrange determined to seek sager advice than his own; he therefore resolved to go at once to a strange character who lived near Brighton, William Stacy, or as he was more commonly known--"Dare Devil Bill."