This was by no means extraordinary. In our country villages and their vicinity hundreds of people are, at this moment, occupying big houses, and under assumed names passing themselves off for what they are not. Summer visitors to the rural districts are often a queer lot, and many a gentleman known as Mr Brown, the smug attendant at the village church, is in reality Mr Green whose means of livelihood would not bear looking into. From time to time a man is unmasked, and a paragraph appears in the papers, but such persons are usually far too wary when it is a matter of effacing their identity under the very nose of the police, and enjoy the confidence and esteem of both the villagers and "the county." So it evidently was with "Mr Gordon-Wright." Consumed by hatred, and longing to go forward and unmask him as the ingenious swindler who stole Blenkap's money, I stood at the gate, eager to obtain another glimpse of the woman who he intended should be his victim. What was the nature of his all-powerful influence over her, I wondered? She loved me still. Had she not admitted that? And yet she dare not break from this man whose life was one long living lie! "Fortunately I've discovered you," I said, between my teeth, speaking to myself. "You shall never wreck her happiness, that I'm determined! A word from me to Scotland Yard, and you will be arrested, my fine gentleman." And I laughed, recollecting how entirely his future was in my hands. He had already dressed for dinner before the arrival of the party, and I overheard him shouting to Murray not to trouble to change, it being so late. Then he came along the hall, and stood at the door, gazing straight in my direction, his hands in the pockets of his dinner-jacket, awaiting his guests. He could not see me, I knew, for the roadway was rendered very dark at that point by the trees that almost met overhead. Therefore I watched his thin clean-shaven face, and saw upon its evil features an expression of intense anxiety which was certainly not there when we had met earlier that day in Dorsetshire. Ella was the first to descend. She had exchanged her dark dress for a gown of pale blue Liberty silk, high at the throat, and, though simply made, it suited her admirably. The fellow turned at the sound of her footstep, and hurrying towards her, took her hand, and led her outside upon the gravelled drive. "The others, of course, have no idea that I've been to Studland!" I heard him whisper to her anxiously as they stood there together in the shadow, away from the stream of light that shone from the open door. "I told them nothing," was her calm answer, in a voice that seemed inert and mechanical. "I only arrived here an hour ago. I feared that you might be here before me. You, of course, delayed them by excuses, as I suggested." "Yes. We had tea on the way, and we came the longer way round, by Plymouth, as you told me."