It was quite imperative that she should go, for dinner at Hartledon was that evening fixed for seven o’clock, and there would be little enough time to dress and return again.  They set out, walking side by side.  Anne told him of what Lord Hartledon had said to her that day; and Val coloured with shame at the sullenness he had displayed, and his heart went into a glow of repentance.  Had he met his brother then, he had clasped his hand, and poured forth his contrition.

He met some one else instead, almost immediately.  It was Dr. Ashton, coming for Anne.  Percival was not wanted now:  was not invited to continue his escort.  A cold, civil word or two passed, and Val struck across the grove into the high-road, and returned to Hartledon.

He was about to turn in at the lodge-gates with his usual greeting to Mrs. Capper when his attention was caught by a figure coming down the avenue.  A man in a long coat, his face ornamented with red whiskers.  It required no second glance for recognition.  Whiskers and coat proclaimed their owner at once; and if ever Val Elster’s heart leaped into his mouth, it certainly leaped then.

He went on, instead of turning in; quietly, as if he were only a stranger enjoying an evening stroll up the road; but the moment he was past the gates he set off at breakneck speed, not heeding where.  That the man was there to arrest him, he felt as sure as he had ever felt of anything in this world; and in his perplexity he began accusing every one of treachery, Lord Hartledon and Pike in particular.

The river at the back in this part took a sweeping curve, the road kept straight; so that to arrive at a given point, the one would be more quickly traversed than the other.  On and on went Val Elster; and as soon as an opening allowed, he struck into the brushwood on the right, intending to make his way back by the river to Hartledon.

But not yet.  Not until the shades of night should fall on the earth:  he would have a better chance of getting away from that shark in the darkness than by daylight.  He propped his back against a tree and waited, hating himself all the time for his cowardice.  With all his scrapes and dilemmas, he had never been reduced to this sort of hiding.

And his pursuer had struck into the wood after him, passed straight through it, though with some little doubt and difficulty, and was already by the river-side, getting there just as Lord Hartledon was passing in his skiff.  Long as this may have seemed in telling, it took only a short time to accomplish; still Lord Hartledon had not made quick way, or he would have been further on his course in the race.

Would the sun ever set?—­daylight ever pass?  Val thought not, in his impatience; and he ventured out of his shelter very soon, and saw for his reward—­the long coat and red whiskers by the river-side, their owner conversing with a man.  Val went further away, keeping the direction of the stream:  the brushwood might no longer be safe.  He did not think they had seen him:  the man he dreaded had his back to him, the other his face.  And that other was Pike.