ear Long Ride was their
meeting-place, how the man had met her there, and led her slowly
beneath the trees to the cottage of the procuress. And then an
inspiration came. A note to be sent in his wife's name, as soon as Mr.
Barradine got home to the Abbey. "Meet me in the West Gate copse. I
want to show my gratitude"--or--"I want to thank you again"--something
of that sort. "Meet me at the end of North Ride by the Heronry. I will
be there if possible four o'clock to-morrow. If not there to-morrow, I
will be there next day. Mavis."

He wrote such a letter, in a hand sufficiently like his wife's. Yes,
that would fetch him. The old devil would have no suspicions.

Then a cold shiver ran down his spine. It was a thought rising from
the depths, warning him, terrifying him. The note would remain
_afterward_. If Mr. Barradine did not destroy it--and very likely he
would not do so--the note would be found afterward. But after what?

He tore up the note, tore it into tiny pieces. It seemed to him that
he had escaped from a danger. His plan had been the idea of a madman.
But why? With his skin still cold and clammy, he found himself
whispering words which sounded explanatory, but which did not explain:
"Suppose a mistake occurred. Yes, suppose a mistake occurred." Then
trying to think quietly and sensibly, instead of in this fluttered,
erratic way, he forced himself to interpret the real significance of
the whisper. Well, suppose he struck too hard, and too often. But
again there came the blankness--an abrupt check to thought--the depths
refusing to give anything more to the surface.

He decided that he would go down to Hampshire secretly, letting no
one know of his movements; and, stationing himself at some likely spot
near the Abbey, he would wait till chance brought them face to face.
Yes, that would do. Almost immediately he chose Hadleigh Wood as the
place to hide in. Instinct seemed to have suggested the wood rather
than any point nearer to the Abbey, and instinct now ordered him to go
there and nowhere else. It was a likely road to so many parts; it was
full of good hiding-places; and, although it was tricky, with its
close thickets suddenly terminating on the edge of unexpected open
spaces, he knew it all as well as the back of his right hand. He could
lie snug, or range about cautiously, seeing but unseen; and he would
not have long to wait before the grand gentleman passed by on his way
to or from the Abbey park.