ce, and vowed I would put the steel hook into him or burst. I
stretched across for the stile where he would have to cross the big
march-dyke that bordered the Deep Moat property. He had not arrived,
though I could hear him coming--in a precious hurry, too, and crashing
like a steer through the underbrush. I crouched behind a bush of
laurel--for we were in the pheasant shrubbery behind Bailiff
Ball's--and waited with my hook at the "Ready."

He passed me, running--a tall, gliding shadow, with something familiar
in the back of it. I did not see him clearly, for he was all crouched
up because of the low branches of the evergreens and the leather case
he carried under his arm. He was breathing heavily. So was I, but I
would have died before I would have let myself make so much noise about
it.

He looked about him for the stile. Evidently he knew the way well
enough. I thought I recognized, as he bent, momentarily lower, the
oily glitter of black ringlets which distinguished Mad Jeremy. But
though I knew there would be a tussle, I determined that I would not
let him off. Besides, we were pretty near old Ball's at any rate, and
I meant to call for help like a steam whistle--that is, if it should
prove to be Mad Jeremy, or even Mr. Stennis.

Whoever he might be, not finding the stile, he began to climb the high
dyke mighty actively--nearly six foot, I should say, was the height of
that march-dyke--and he had just his leg over when I hooked my steel
into his collar and pulled him back. He fell unhandily, several of the
stones following him, and the leather portfolio going all abroad. He
came down on his face with a whop like a bag of wet salt.

As I turned the fellow over, I was full as I could hold of everything
stuck-up--as arrogant as a jack sparrow after his first fight. He had
hurt his head rather, hitting it hard as he fell. The dawn had come up
clear by that time. I tell you I gasped. I give you a hundred guesses
to tell me whose face it was I saw.

It was that of Mr. Ablethorpe, the Hayfork Parson.

* * * * *

Well, I know now how it feels when the world comes suddenly to an end;
when all that you had counted upon turns out just nothing; when what
you believed true, and would have staked your life upon, is proven all
in a minute the falsest of lies.

It was enough to drive any one mad. And indeed I think I could have
stuck the steel hook into Mr. Ralph Ablethorpe, as h