some touch of the mystery which was quivering in the drawn face of the two women was also reflected in his dimly seen features. Something indefinable was in the air, something so mysterious and wonderful, that voices seemed stricken dumb, and life itself suspended. An owl flew slowly out from the wood with ponderous flapping of wings, and sailed over their heads. Every one started: Madame de Melbain gave a half-stifled shriek. The strain was over. Louise and she were half sobbing now in one another's arms.
"I will leave this fellow to be dealt with as the owners of the château may direct," the stranger said stiffly, turning to Wrayson. "You can tell them all that we know about him."
He turned on his heel, but the Baron laid his hand upon his shoulder and peered into his face inquisitively.
"We should like to know," he said, "whom we have to thank for the capture of this intruder!"
"I am a stranger here, and to all of you," was the quiet answer. "You owe me no thanks. I have seen something of this fellow before," he added, pointing to his captive, who was now standing sullenly in the centre of the group. "I felt sure that he was up to no good, and I watched him."
For the first time the fair-haired little tourist, who had been dragged so submissively into their midst, suffered a gleam of intelligence to appear in his face. He changed his position so that he could see his captor better.
"Ah!" he muttered, "you have seen me before, eh? And I you, perhaps! Let me think! Was it———"
Wrayson's friend leaned a little forwards, and with the careless ease of one flicking away a fly, he struck
