I am nervous about to-morrow" (he was bound, as she knew, to a large Labour Congress in the Midlands, where he was to preside), "and sleep will make no terms with me.

Ah!--how strange! Who can that be passing the avenue ?" He made a step or two into the room, and put up his hand to his brow, looking intently.

Involuntarily, yet with a thrill, Marcella followed.
They walked to the window.
"It is _Hurd_!" she cried in a tone of distress, pressing her face against the glass.

"Out at this time, and with a gun! Oh, dear, dear!" There could be no question that it was Hurd.

Wharton had seen him linger in the shadowy edge of the avenue, as though reconnoitring, and now, as he stealthily crossed the moonlit grass, his slouching dwarf's figure, his large head, and the short gun under his arm, were all plainly visible.
"What do you suppose he is after ?" said Wharton, still gazing, his hands in his pockets.
"I don't know; he wouldn't poach on _our_ land; I'm sure he wouldn't! Besides, there is nothing to poach."-- Wharton smiled.--"He must be going, after all, to Lord Maxwell's coverts! They are just beyond the avenue, on the side of the hill.