the extent of the darkly shaded path, when his attention was
aroused by a tall figure leaning against the trunk of a large elm tree.
A blasted oak, bare of foliage, on the opposite side the road, let in a
flood of light through its leafless branches, which shone full upon the
face of the stranger, and Anthony, with a shudder, recognised William
Mathews.

"A fine evening for your expedition, Mr. Hurdlestone. It might well be
termed the forlorn hope; however I wish with all my heart that you may
be successful." As he spoke he lowered a fowling-piece from his shoulder
to the ground. "Do you hear that raven that sits croaking upon the
rotten branch of the old oak opposite? Does not his confounded noise
make you nervous? It always does me. It sounds like a bad omen. I was
just going to pull down at him as you came along. I fancy, however, that
he's too far above us for a good shot."

"I am in no humor for trifling to-night," said Anthony, stopping and
glancing up at the bird, who sat motionless on a decayed branch a few
yards above his head. "If you are afraid of such sounds, you can soon
silence that for ever."

"It would require a good eye, and an excellent fowling-piece, to bring
down the black gentleman from his lofty perch. I have heard that you,
Mr. Hurdlestone, are accounted a capital shot, far before your cousin
Godfrey. I wish you would just give me a trial of your skill."

"Nonsense!" muttered Anthony. "The bird's only a few yards above us. A
pistol would bring him down."

"I should like to see it done," said Mathews, with a grin. "Here, sir,
take my gun."

Impatient of interruption, and anxious to get rid of the company of a
man whose presence he loathed, Anthony drew one of the pistols from his
breast pocket, and, taking a deliberate aim at the bird, he fired, and
the raven fell dead at his feet. Picking it up, and tossing it over to
Mathews, he said--"Do you believe me now? Pshaw! it was not worth
staining my hands and clothes with blood for such a paltry prize."

Mathews laughed heartily at this speech; but there was something so
revolting in the tones of his mirth, that Anthony quickened his pace to
avoid its painful repetition. A few minutes more brought him in sight of
the miser's cottage. No light gleamed from the broken casement, and both
the door and the window of the hovel were wide open, and flapping in the
night wind. Surprised at a circumstance so unusual, Anthony hastily
entered the house. Th