Having resumed possession of his candlestick, the old serving-man, whose face wore a sour and suspicious look, beckoned Mr. Jack, and, leading the way, presently threw open a door at the end of a corridor, and ushered him into a spacious panelled room, in the grate of which a cosy fire was burning.

"Supper\'s bein\' got ready, sir, and will be served in the course of a few minutes," said the man, and with that he lighted a couple of wax candles on the centre table and two more over the chimney-piece. Then he stirred up the fire to a blaze and hobbled out of the room without a word more.

Mr. Jack\'s first action was to relieve himself of his sodden cloak, which he laid over the back of a chair. That done, he spread his chilled fingers to the blaze, and proceeded to take stock of his surroundings.

This was soon done, for the room held nothing calculated to arrest his attention or excite his curiosity. It was sparsely furnished, and its few chairs and tables, together with the bureau in one corner, although of choice workmanship, were all venerable with age. Carpet and hearthrug alike were faded and in places worn threadbare. Of pictures or ornaments of any kind, except for a small malachite vase on the chimney-piece, the room was wholly destitute. Judging from appearances, it seemed clear that the master of Rockmount was not a wealthy man.

Scarcely had Mr. Jack concluded his survey before the door was opened, and in came a middle-aged woman, carrying a supper-tray, which she proceeded to deposit on a centre table, and then wheeled the latter nearer the fire. The tray proved to contain a cold fowl, some slices of ham, butter, cheese, bread, and a bottle of claret. To our young friend, ravenously hungry and chilled to the marrow, it seemed a supper fit for the gods.

"Will you please to ring, sir, when you are ready for your coffee?" said the woman. And then he was left alone.

Not till half an hour had gone by did he ring the bell, by which time his spirits had gone up several degrees. Intensely chagrined though he was by his failure to secure that for which he had risked so much, there was a relish about his adventure which he appreciated to the full, which appealed at once to his imagination and to the unconventional side of a character which had often vainly beat itself against the restrictions and restraints by which it was environed. He felt that to-night was a night to have lived for. It would dwell freshly in his memory to the last day of his life. For the space of one hour and a half he had been hand-and-glove with Captain Nightshade, the most redoubtable highwayman in all the North Country; and if some people might think that was nothing to be proud of, it was at any rate something to remember. Whether he was proud of it or no, he was conscious of a secret sense of elation, into the origin of which he had no wish to inquire. He only knew that he would not have foregone the night\'s experiences for a great deal.

But the night was not yet over, although there seemed to be some danger of his forgetting that fact, so busy were his thoughts with the events of the last couple of hours. However, the bringing in of his coffee served to break up his reverie, and he began to wonder whether he was destined to see his unknown host. He was not left long in doubt.

"Mr. Ellerslie, sir, will do himself the pleasure of waiting upon you in the course of a few minutes," said the woman.

Together with the coffee she had brought in a case of spirits, with the needful concomitants for the manufacture of grog, without a tumbler or two of which, by way of nightcap, our great-grandfathers rarely thought of wending their way bedward.

While the woman cleared the table Mr. Jack went back to his chair near the fire. The blaze, as he bent towards it in musing mood, resting an elbow on either knee, lighted up a face that was very pleasant to look upon. In shape it was a rather long oval, the cheeks as smooth and rounded as those of a girl of twenty, with that pure healthy tint in them which nothing but plenty of exposure to sun and wind can impart; indeed, if you had looked closely, you would have seen that here and there they were slightly freckled. Add to this a nose of the Grecian type, long and straight, and a short upper lip with a marked cleft in it. His hair, which was brushed straight back from his forehead, so as to help in the formation of his queue, was of the color of filberts when at their ripest, with here and there a gleam of dead gold in it. His large eyes were of the deepest shade of hazel, heavily lashed, and with a wonderful velvety softness in them, which, when he was at all excited, would glow and kindle with a sort of inner flame, or, if his temper were roused--which it easily was--would flash with scornful lightnings, while the line between his brows deepened to a veritable furrow. For, truth to tell, Mr. Jack Prentice was of a quick and somewhat fiery disposition; a little too ready, perhaps, to take offence; with an intense hatred for every kind of injustice, and a fine scorn, for the little meannesses and subterfuges of everyday life, the practice of which with many of us is so habitual and matter-of-course that we no longer recognize them for what they really are.

But if Master Jack was a little too ready, so to speak, to clap his hand on the hilt of his rapier, he never bore any after-malice. His temper would flare out and be done with it with the suddenness of a summer storm, which has come and gone and given you a taste of its quality almost before you know what has happened.

But we shall know more of "Jack," generous, loyal, and true-hearted, before we have done with him.

The door opened and Mr. Cope-Ellerslie came in. His guest stood up and turned to receive him.

The master of Rockmount was a tall, thin, elderly man, apparently about sixty years old, with a pronounced stoop of the shoulders. His outer garment was a dark, heavy robe or gaberdine, which wrapped him from throat to ankle. His long, grizzled hair, parted down the middle, fell on either side over his ears, and rested on the collar of his robe; the crown of his head was covered with a small velvet skull cap. He wore a short Vandyck beard and moustache, which, like his prominent eyebrows, were thickly flecked with gray. For the rest, his face, when seen from a little distance, looked like nothing so much as a mask carved out of ivory with the yellow tint of age upon it; but when, a little later, Jack was enabled to view it close at hand, it was seen to be marked and lined with thousands of extremely fine and minute creases and wrinkles, as it might be the face of a man centuries old. But there was nothing old about the eyes, which were very bright and of a singularly penetrative quality.

Jack started involuntarily when his own traversed them. Of whose eyes did they remind him? When and where had he seen that look before? Was it in some dream which he had forgotten till they supplied the missing link? If so, all else had escaped him.

Hardly, however, had he time to ask himself these questions before his host, advancing with a grave inclination of the head, said: "Welcome to Rockmount, young gentleman. I am happy to be in a position to extend to you the hospitality of my humble roof. You are neither the first nor the second who, having lost his bearings in this remote district, has found shelter here. You were fortunate in there being no fog to-night; at such times to be lost on the moors is not merely unpleasant, but dangerous. I am sorry my people were not prepared to put before you fare of a more recherché kind, but we are very isolated here, as you may imagine, and so few are my visitors that it would be folly to prepare for people who might never come. For my own part, I may add that I am no Sybarite."

There was a peculiarly hollow ring about Mr. Ellerslie\'s voice, as though it reached one from out of the depths of a cavern; and yet it seemed to his guest as if there was a note of half-familiarity in it, as if he had heard it somewhere before--it might be long ago. But that, of course, was absurd.

While speaking, Mr. Ellerslie had advanced to the fire, and, motioning his guest to resume his seat, had himself taken possession of a chair on the opposite side of the hearth.

Then Master Jack made haste to express his gratitude for the hospitality so generously extended to him.

"Very prettily turned, young gentleman," said Mr. Ellerslie, with a nod of approval when he had come to an end. "You have good choice of words, and express yourself without any trace of that affectation which nowadays mars the speech of so many of our so-called bucks and young men of ton."

The blush of ingenuous youth mantled in Jack\'s cheeks for a moment or two. He could not help noticing--and in after-days it was a point which often recurred to him--that his host never smiled, that no flitting shade of expression ever changed the mask-like, bloodless features. They remained wholly unmoved in their set, waxen pallor.

"And now," resumed Mr. Ellerslie, "will there be any impropriety in my asking my guest to favor me with his name? But if, for any reason whatever, he would prefer to remain incognito, he has merely to intimate as much and his reticence will be duly respected."

Mr. Jack was prepared for the question, and he answered it without hesitation. "If, Mr. Ellerslie, we should ever meet in after-days, as I sincerely trust we may, and you should accost me by the name of Frank Nevill, you will find me answer to it."

"It is a name I promise not to forget. You seem to have got my name quite pat, Mr. Nevill."

Mr. Nevill, or Mr. Prentice, or whatever his real name was, laughed a little uneasily. "It was from the--er--gentleman who acted as my guide and brought me here that I learnt it."

"How you learnt it, my dear sir, is a matter of no moment, so long as you know it. But I am forgetting that the grog is waiting to be mixed. You will join me over a tumbler, of course?"

But this his guest politely but firmly declined doing. Mr. Ellerslie was careful not to press him farther than good breeding sanctioned, which, however, did not hinder him from mixing a stiff and steaming tumbler for himself. Having tasted it and apparently found it to his liking, he went back to his seat by the fire.

"You were good enough just now, Mr. Nevill, to express a hope that you and I might some day meet again. Such a meeting, although not beyond the bounds of possibility--as, indeed, in this world, what is?--hardly comes within the range of likelihood. You are just on the point of stepping into the arena--the struggle, the turmoil, the dust, the elation of victory or, it may be, the bitterness of defeat, lie still before you; while for me it is all over. I have come out of the fight with reversed arms, I have left the sweating crowd and its plaudits--plaudits never showered upon me!--behind me forever. Here, in this rude hermitage--somewhat bleak, of a truth, in winter time--I hope to pass the remainder of my days, as Mr. Pope so aptly expresses, it, \'the world forgetting, by the world forgot.\' Therefore, my dear Mr. Nevill, the chances are that after to-night you and I are hardly likely to meet again. To you belong the golden possibilities of the future, to me nothing but memories."

He stirred his grog, took a good pull at it, and then went on with his monologue:--

"Rockmount has now been my home for a couple of years, and I have no desire to leave it. Here I live in the utmost seclusion with my books and a few scientific instruments. An act of the blackest treachery drove me from the world, a ruined man, bankrupt in hope, in friendship, in means, with not one illusion left of all those with which----but I weary you with my egotistic maunderings. Besides, the hour is late--I cannot expect you to be such a night-owl as I am--and doubtless you are hungering for your bed."

Nevill protested, a little mendaciously, that he was not at all tired. Tired he was, but not sleepy. He would willingly have sat out the rest of the night with his singular host.

Presently Mr. Ellerslie, having finished the remainder of his grog, said, "By the way, towards which point of the compass are you desirous of bending your steps in the morning?"

"If I could only find my way to the Whinbarrow road, I should know where I was."

"One of my fellows shall go with you and not leave you till he has put you into it. You have but to name your own hour for breakfast, and Mrs. Dobson will have it ready for you."

He rose, as intimating that the moment for retiring had come. A light was burning in the entrance-hall, and two bed-candles had been placed in readiness, one of which Mr. Ellerslie proceeded to light.

At the foot of the stairs he held out his hand. It was a long, lean, sinewy hand, Nevill could not help noticing, and not at all like that of a man on whom age had in other respects set its unmistakable seal.

"I am one of those mortals who have an uncomfortable habit of turning night into day," remarked the elder man as he clasped his guest\'s fingers. "I usually sit up till dawn is in the sky, and, as a consequence, I sleep till late in the forenoon. As you tell me that you want to be on your way at an early hour, I had better, perhaps, say both good-night and good-bye here and now----Ah, a mouse!"

Frank Nevill gave a backward spring, and a little frightened cry escaped his lips. Next moment the blood rushed to his face, and he felt as if he could have bitten his tongue out for betraying him as it had.

But Mr. Ellerslie seemed to have noticed nothing. "We have not many such vermin, I am happy to say," he resumed after a momentary pause. "But these old country houses are seldom altogether free of them."

And so presently they parted.

Mrs. Dobson was awaiting Nevill at the head of the stairs. "Your room, sir, is the third door on the left down the corridor," she said. "At what hour would you be pleased to like breakfast?"

"Will eight o\'clock be too early?"

"No hour you may name will be either too early or too late, sir."

"Then eight o\'clock let it be."

Thereupon the woman curtsied, wished him a respectful good-night, and left him.

As soon as he found himself in the room indicated, and with the door not merely shut but locked, he sat down with an air of weariness, almost of despondency. Body and brain were alike tired out, yet never had he felt more wakeful than at that moment. Even had he been in the habit of trying to analyze his emotions, which he certainly was not, the effort to do so would have puzzled him just then. The bitter consciousness that he had failed in the endeavor for which he had risked so much was always with him, lurking, as it were, in the background of his brain. He felt it like a dull, persistent ache which never quite let go its hold of him, whatever other subject might be occupying the forefront of his thoughts. And then, there were all the other events of the day just ended, which----

He started to his feet. "I shall have to-morrow and a hundred to-morrows in which I shall have nothing to do but think, and think, and think. If I begin the process to-night I shall not sleep a wink."

As yet he had given neither a thought nor a glance to the room, but he now began to look about him with a little natural curiosity.

It was a somewhat gloomy chamber, the walls having been originally painted a dull chocolate color, which had not improved with the passage of time. In one corner was a large four-poster bed, with furniture of dark moreen. The dressing-table of black oak was crowded with an assortment of toilet requirements and appurtenances, silver-mounted and of most elegant workmanship.

Then his wandering glances were arrested by something--a garment of snowy whiteness--which had been laid over the back of a chair. Mr. Nevill, crossing to it, took it up gingerly and opened it. It proved to be a fine lawn chemise de nuit, frilled and trimmed with beautiful lace--a garment such as a duchess might have worn, but certainly never intended to be worn by one of the opposite sex.

Our young friend dropped it as if it were a red-hot cinder, and, sinking into the nearest chair, covered his face with his hands. From head to foot he felt as if he were one huge blush.