Ere he had proceeded a dozen yards, a hand was placed somewhat vigorously upon his shoulder. He turned quickly: the figure of a man was before him, but in the darkness he could distinguish nothing further.
A voice he did not recognise said, roughly, to him—
“Fellow! why are you lurking here?”
Hugh flung him fiercely hack.
“Who are you who dare thus address me?” he cried, angrily.
“That you shall know somewhat too soon for your satisfaction,” returned his questioner, again seizing him, and, with great strength, dragging him from the thicket towards the gravel path. “The lady, too,” he added, “can hardly escape detection. I have marked her down.”
More he was unable to say, for the impetuous bands of Hugh clutched his throat, and prevented further utterance.
A desperate struggle ensued. It was so far but a wrestle. Hugh sought to release himself from the grip of him who had seized him, and his captor did his utmost to retain his hold.
In the course of the contention they emerged from the thicket into the moonlight, which fell upon the faces of both; each was thus able to distinguish clearly the features of his antagonist, but both were utter strangers to each other; simultaneously they detected they had not met before.
Hugh Riversdale knew not that he was striving with Lester Vane, but he was sure that he should never forget the face, the pallid face, within a foot of his own, which the gray moonlight was tinting with the hue of death.