The Baronet had not seen Feltram since his strange escape from death. His last interview with him had been stern and threatening; Sir Bale dealing with appearances in the spirit of an incensed judge, Philip Feltram lamenting in the submission of a helpless despair.

Feltram was full in the moonlight now, standing erect, and smiling cynically on the Baronet.

There was that in the bearing and countenance of Feltram that disconcerted him more than the surprise of the sudden meeting.

He had determined to meet Feltram in a friendly way, whenever that not very comfortable interview became inevitable. But he was confused by the suddenness of Feltram’s appearance; and the tone, cold and stern, in which he had last spoken to him came first, and he spoke in it after a brief silence.

“I fancied, Mr. Feltram, you were in your bed; I little expected to find you here. I think the Doctor gave very particular directions, and said that you were to remain perfectly quiet.”

“But I know more than the Doctor,” replied Feltram, still smiling unpleasantly.

“I think, sir, you would have been better in your bed,” said Sir Bale loftily.

“Come, come, come, come!” exclaimed Philip Feltram contemptuously.

[Illustration: It was the figure of a slight tall man, with his arm extended, as if pointing to a remote object.]

“It seems to me,” said Sir Bale, a good deal astonished, “you rather forget yourself.”

“Easier to forget oneself, Sir Bale, than to forgive others, at times,” replied Philip Feltram in his unparalleled mood.

“That’s the way fools knock themselves up,” continued Sir Bale. “You’ve been walking ever so far — away to the Fells of Golden Friars. It was you whom I saw there. What damned folly! What brought you there?”

“To observe you,” he replied.

“And have you walked the whole way there and back again? How did you get there?”

“Pooh! how did I come — how did you come — how did the fog come? From the lake, I suppose. We all come up, and then down.” So spoke Philip Feltram, with serene insolence.

“You are pleased to talk nonsense,” said Sir Bale.

“Because I like it — with a meaning.”

Sir Bale looked at him, not knowing whether to believe his eyes and ears. He did not know what to make of him.

“I had intended speaking to you in a conciliatory way; you seem to wish to make that impossible”— Philip Feltram’s face wore its repulsive smile;—“and in fact I don’t know what to make of you, unless you are ill; and ill you well may be. You can’t have walked much less than twelve miles.”

“Wonderful effort for me!” said Feltram with the same sneer.

“Rather surprising for a man so nearly drowned,” answered Sir Bale Mardykes.

“A dip: you don’t like the lake, sir; but I do. And so it is: as Antaeus touched the earth, so I the water, and rise refreshed.”

“I think you’d better get in and refresh there. I meant to tell you that all the unpleasantness about that bank-note is over.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It has been recovered by Mr. Creswell, who came here last night. I’ve got it, and you’re not to b............