The Friday on which the appointment between Foster and Levi Sharples was
to be kept at Cricketty Hall, was one of those dismal April days which
make you forget that there is any prospect of a coming summer in the
chilly misery of the present. Cold showers and raw breezes made the
passers through the streets of Crossbourne fold themselves together, and
expose as little surface as was possible to the inclemency of the
weather; so that when James Barnes and Thomas Bradly left the station by
the early and mid-day trains, there were but few idlers about to notice
their departure.

At length the mills loosed, and Foster hurried home, and, after a hasty
tea, told his wife that an engagement would take him from home for a few
hours, and that she must not be alarmed if he was a little late. Then,
having put on a stout overcoat, he made his way through the higher part
of the town, and past the vicarage, and was soon in the open country.
It was past seven o'clock when he reached the place where the footpath
leading to the old Hall met the highroad. It was still raining, though
not heavily; but thick, leaden-coloured clouds brooded over the whole
scene, and served to deepen the approaching darkness. It was certainly
an evening not calculated to raise any one's spirits; and the harsh
wind, as it swept over the wide expanse of the treeless fields, with
their stern-looking stone fences, added to the depressing influences of
the hour. But Foster was a man not easily daunted by such things, and
he had stridden on manfully, fully occupied by his own thoughts, till he
reached the stile where the footpath to the ruins began. Here he
paused, looked carefully in all directions, listened attentively without
hearing sound of traveller or vehicle, and then whistled in a low tone
twice. A tall figure immediately rose up from the other side of the
hedge and joined him.

"Well, Levi," said Foster, "I have kept my appointment; and now what
would you have with me?"

"I'll tell you, William," replied his companion. "You know I'm a marked
man. The police are looking out for me on account of that housebreaking
job--more's the pity I ever had anything to do with it. However, I'm a
changed man now, I hope: I think I've given you some proof of that
already, William, so you may trust me. A man wouldn't come back and
thrust his head into the lion's mouth as I've done, to show his
sincerity and sorrow for the past, if he hadn't been in earnes