"What do you want?" asked Raoul, checking his horse and leaning over upon his saddle, in a vain effort to distinguish the features of his interlocutor. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"M. de Pont Brillant, did you receive a note this morning requesting you to meet some one at Grand Sire's Rock?"
"No; for I left Pont Brillant at eight o'clock; but once more, what does all this mean? Who the devil are you?"
"I am the writer of the letter sent you this morning."
"Ah, well, my friend, you can—"
"I am not your friend," interrupted the voice, "I am your enemy."
"What's that you say?" exclaimed Raoul, in surprise.
"I say that I am your enemy."
"Indeed!" retorted Raoul, in a half-amused, half-contemptuous tone, for he was naturally very brave. "And what is your name, Mister Enemy?"
"My name is a matter of no consequence."