for breath, the fellow would have
struggled to free himself, but Ralph held him like a vise.

"This is not the first time we have met; take care it shall be the
last."

So saying, Ralph flung the man from him, and he fell like an infant at
his feet.

Gathering himself up with a look compounded equally of surprise and
hatred, the man said, "Nay, nay; do you think it'll be the last? don't
you fear it!"

Then he slunk out of the crowd, and it was observed that when he had
gained the opposite side of the street, the little, pale-faced elderly
person who had been known as Ralph's Shadow, had joined him.

* * * * *

"Is it our man?"

"The same, for sure."

"Then it must be done the day. We've delayed too long already."

CHAPTER XXVIII. AFTER WORD COMES WEIRD.

I. When Ralph lay down in his bed that night in a coffee-house in China
Lane, there was no conviction more strongly impressed upon his mind
than that it was his instant duty to leave Lancaster. It was obvious
that he was watched, and that his presence in the old town had excited
suspicion. The man who had pestered him for many days with his
unwelcome society was clearly in league with the other man who had
insulted the girl. The latter rascal he knew of old for a declared and
bitter enemy. Probably the pair were only waiting for authority,
perhaps merely for the verification of some surmise, before securing
the aid of the constable to apprehend him. He must leave Lancaster,
and at once.

Ralph rose from his bed and dressed himself afresh. He strapped his
broad pack across his back, called his hostess, and paid his score.
"Must the gentleman start away at midnight?" Yes; a sudden call
compelled him. "Should she brew him a pot of hot ale?--the nights were
chill in winter." Not to-night; he must leave without delay.

When Ralph walked through the streets of Lancaster that cold midnight,
it was with no certainty as to his destination. It was to be anywhere,
anywhere in this race for life. Any haven that promised solitude was
to be his city of refuge.

The streets were quiet now, and even the roystering tipplers had gone
off to their homes. For Ralph there was no home--only this wild hunt
from place to place, with no safety and rest.

His heavy tread and the echo of his footfall were at length all that
broke the stillness of the streets.

He walked southwards, and when he reached the turnpike he stood for a
moment