Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1870-03-31
CHAPTER II.

Sir Roy Fairfax, on leaving his wife's
drawing-roOn, had by no means entered
the carriage TO drive across the country &c
the old Mountiov mansion. Instead oil
that he had taken his way across the ter
raced lawn to q secluded path which led
into a balsam-sme cling copse Of evergreens
where a rustic sUmmer-house afforded q
sort Of improptu shelter from the dew and
chill
.It's too early yet, :" said Sir Roy to him.
self, as he sat down and deliberately light
ed cigar.
The stable clock struck nine, ten and
eleven, a. he sat there, sometimes smoking
and sometimes whistiing softly to himself.
When, finally he rose, and moved steadi-
ly through the quiet trees, it was nearly
midnight
Across the dewy grass-past the old ivy
mantled tree, where an owl booted dismally
as he passed-down narrow path, Sir
Roy Fairfax walked. until he found him
self ofa sudden. close to the back entrance
of a small thatched cottage, on the very
verge of the pleasure grounds. All was
quite dark and silent, or seemed so from
without; but when Sir Roy tapped softly at
the door, it opened, revolving suddenly
and nOiselessly on its hinges, and revealed
brightly-Eghted room. with three men,
sitting or standing carelessly around one
Of them the very Colonel Mountjoy with
whom Sir Roy had avowed his purpose of
dining that evening.
AT last ~ cried old Colonel Mountjoy,
as the door closed once IN re, behind the
new conner. ''Why, man, we thought you
were never coming
at Is the hour ( agreed upon" Sir Roy
answered deliberately.
"Well, perhaps you may be right about
that" said the old gentleman, impatiently,
''but when a man Is waiting, every minute
seems like an hour.
Sir Roy glanced round the room, nodded
TO his other comrade, n tall, rather slender
man, and spoke word or two to the game
keeper. a grizly-headed Sco.chmsn of fifty
or thereabouts.
s'You think the game will lie well to-
night. Morrison p
couldn't be better. Sir Roy" the man
answered with repressed ehuekle.
Then, sir" said old Morrison, as nei-
Their Colonel Mountjoy nor Sir Roy an
swered him, ''p'rsps we'd better be
movin' Here's your gun-now then, to
the left -
He led the way, plunging into an appar,
emily trackless bit of over-grown woods
through which ne threaded his way sure
footed and swift as one of the Park deer.
The three gentlemen followed. and for q
few minutes the silence was unbroken.
Suddenly Morrison stopped breathing,
rather than whispering into Sir Roy's ear,
as he pointed In the dim, uncertain star
light, at a small open space, quite sur
rounded with dwarfed trees and under
brush
"There, Sir Roy, there's the trap on the
edge o. them hazels, and it amt empty
neither. He can't be long comm arter his
game, you may take your oath -
The old mans hand t-embled with Gag
erness-his face turned upward in the star
light, was flushed with the excitement Of
the moment.
"Hush On your life, don't speak q
word, man, murmured Sir Roy, motioning
to the other two 10 advance no farther,
I'VE have only to wait now"
The seconds grew into minutes minutes
seemed to lengthen themselves out, as the
four men stood there so moionless that you
could not have discovered their Swallowed
figures from the trunks of the beeches and
chestnut trees. Their very breathing was
hushed-one might have heard the Lluffled
beatings of their hearts
''Now, gasped Morrison, the gamekeeper,
snow he's comm, Sir Roy"
A second or two-it could scarcely have
been more-and dark figure, slouching
heavily along in the obscurity, en- srged
from tho underground beyond, and crossing
the open space, kneit down to examine the
snare which had been skillfully concealed
with fallen branches. He dropped the prey
into coarse bag or pouch which hung
over his shoulder, ard was just rising to
his feet once more, when he found himself
face to facs with the cold, sneering gaze of
Sir Roy Fsirfax
Involuntarily the man raised his rifle, the
barrel glit,ered strangely in the mystic
light, Sir Roy snatched it from him, and
flung il into the coppice beyond; and in the
struggle the gun went off with the sharp,
piercing sound that had so startled Lady
Fairfax in her white and gold boudoir
The poacher sprang at Sir Roy's throat,
with sharp, Low straDgled cry, like that