"To a warmer place than even the warmest West Indian Isle," was the significant reply of the other, with a withering glance of malevolence and irony; "but it was not to talk with you I sought the Forest of Qaich to-night. My man is here!"
With these strange words, the tall dark man strode to the foot of a tree. There, muffled in his cloak and fast asleep, or to all appearance so, Captain MacPherson was lying with his head pillowed on the root of a gigantic larch, and when shaken roughly by the shoulder, he started up with one of his terrible oaths, but grew pale on beholding the person who aroused him. On recovering himself partially,
"What errand brings you here to-night?" he asked, in a low and stifled voice.
"To see you," was the brief reply.
"But why now, fiend?"
"Where so fitting a place as the Forest of Gaich?"
"True—true! fool—madman that I was! What lured me to halt here?"
"What lured you?"
"Yes."
"Shall I tell you?" grinned the other.