“There was no disguise about the man’s intentions.  As I started off, he broke into a run and followed, but he did not hail me to stop.  I suppose he knew whither the path led.  But if his purpose was definite, so was mine.  And again I noted with faint surprise that I had no feeling of nervousness.  My contact with the criminal class had left me with nothing but a sentiment of hostile contempt.  That a criminal might kill me never presented itself as a practical possibility.  I was only concerned in inducing him to give me a fair pretext for killing him.  So I ran on, wondering if my pursuer had ringed hair; if it were possible that, in this remote place and by this chance meeting, I might find the object of my quest; and conscious of that fierce, playful delight that always came over me when I was hunting the enemies of my race.  For, of course, I was now hunting the fellow behind me, although the poor devil supposed he was hunting me.

“When the track approached the chalk-pit, it descended rather suddenly.  I ran down between two clumps of bushes, into the weed-grown area at the bottom, past the row of caverns wherein the wagons were even now lurking unseen, and on until the track ended among a range of mole-hills in a sort of bay encompassed by the time-stained cliff.  Here I wheeled about, putting down my bag, and faced my pursuer.

“‘Stand off!’ I said sharply.  ‘What are you following me for?’

“The man stopped and then approached more slowly.  ’Look ‘ere, mister,’ said he, ‘I don’t want to hurt yer.  You needn’t be afeared of me.’

“‘Well,’ said I, ‘What do you want?’

“‘I’ll tell yer,’ he said confidentially.  ’I’m a pore man, I am; I ain’t got no watch, I ain’t got no money and I can’t get no work.  Now you’re a rich man.  You’ve got a very ’andsome watch—­I see it—­and lots more at ‘ome, I dessay.  Well, you makes me a present o’ that watch, that’s what you do; and any small change that you’ve got about yer.  You do that and I’ll let yer go peaceable.’

“‘And supposing I don’t?’

“‘Then some o’ them farm blokes ’ill find a dead man in a chalk-pit.  And it ain’t no good for you to holler.  There ain’t no one within a mile of this place.  So you pass over that watch and turn out yer bloomin’ pockets.’

“‘Do I understand—­’ I began; but he interrupted me savagely: 

“‘Oh, shut yer face and hand over!  D’yer hear?’ He advanced threateningly, grasping his bludgeon by the smaller end, but when he had approached within a couple of paces I made a sudden lunge with my stick, introducing its ferrule to his abdomen about the region of the solar plexus.  He sprang back with an astonished yelp—­which sounded like ’Ow—­er!’—­and stood gasping and rubbing his abdomen.  As he recovered, he broke out into absurd and disgusting speech and began cautiously to circle round me, balancing his club in readiness for a smashing blow.

“‘You wait till I done with yer,’ said he, watching for a chance.  ’I’ll make yer pay for that.  I’m a-goin’ to do yer in, I am.  You’ll look ugly when I’ve finished—­Ow—­er!’ The concluding exclamation was occasioned by the ferrule of my stick impinging on the fleshy part of his chest, and as he uttered it he sprang back out of range.