"Ay, I see; it peeps through the trees, the branches of which cut it up
into various portions. It is singular, and yet beautiful, and yet the
earth below seems dark." "It is dark; you would be surprised to find it so if you walked about. It will soon be lighter than it is at this present moment." "What sounds are those?" inquired Sir Francis Varney, as he listened
attentively. "Sounds! What sounds?" returned Henry. "The sounds of wheels and horses' feet," said Varney. "I cannot even hear them, much less can I tell what they are," said
Henry. "Then listen. Now they come along the road. Cannot you hear them now?" said Varney. "Yes, I can," said Charles Holland; "but I really don't know what they
are, or what it can matter to us; we don't expect any visitors." "Certainly, certainly," said Varney. "I am somewhat apprehensive of the
approach of strange sounds." "You are not likely to be disturbed here," said Charles. "Indeed; I thought so when I had succeeded in getting into the house
near the town, and so far from believing it was likely I should be
discovered, that I sat on the house-top while the mob surrounded it." "Did you not hear them coming?" "I did." "And yet you did not attempt to escape from them?" "No, I could not persuade them I was not there save by my utter silence. I allowed them to come too close to leave myself time to
escape--besides, I could hardly persuade myself there could be any
necessity for so doing." "It was fortunate it was as it happened afterwards, that you were able
to reach the wood, and get out of it unperceived by the mob." "I should have been in an unfortunate condition had I been in their
hands long. A man made of iron would not be able to resist the brutality
of those people." As they were speaking, a gig, with two men, drove up, followed by one on
horseback. They stopped at the garden-gate, and then tarried to consult
with each other, as they looked at the house. "What can they want, I wonder?" inquired Henry; "I never saw them
before." "Nor I," said Charles Holland. "Do you not know them at all?" inquired Varney. "No," replied Flora; "I never saw them, neither can I imagine what is
their object in coming here." "Did you ever see them before?" inquired Henry of his mother, who held
up her hand to look more carefully at the strangers; then, shaking her
head, she declared she had never seen such persons as those. "I dare say not," said Charles Holland. "They certainly are not
gentlemen; but here they come; there is some mistake, I daresay--they
don't want to come here." As they spoke, the two strangers got down; after picking up a topcoat
they had let fall, they turned round, and deliberately put it into the
chaise again; they walked up the path to the door, at which they
knocked. The door was opened by the old woman, when the two men entered. "Does Francis Beauchamp live here?" "Eh?" said the old woman, who was a little deaf, and she put her hand
behind her ear to catch the sounds more distinctly--"eh?--who did you
say?" Sir Francis Varney started as the sounds came upon his ear, but he sat
still an attentive listener. "Are there any strangers in the house?" inquired the other officer,
impatiently. "Who is here?" "Strangers!" said the old woman; "you are the only strangers that I have
seen here." "Come," said the officer to his companion, "come this way; there are
people in this parlour. Our business must be an apology for any rudeness
we may commit." As he spoke he stepped by the old woman, and laying his hand upon the
handle of the door, entered the apartment, at the same time looking
carefully around the room as if he expected some one. "Ladies," said the stranger, with an off-hand politeness that had
something repulsive in it, though it was meant to convey a notion that
civility was intended; "ladies, I beg pardon for intruding, but I am
looking for a gentleman." "You shall hear from me again soon," said Sir Francis, in an almost
imperceptible whisper. "What is the object of this intrusion?" demanded Henry Bannerworth,
rising and confronting the stranger. "This is a strange introduction." "Yes, but not an unusual one," said the stranger, "in these cases--being
unavoidable, at the least." "Sir," said Charles Holland, "if you cannot explain quickly your
business here, we will proceed to take those measures which will at
least rid ourselves of your company." "Softly, sir. I mean no offence--not the least; but I tell you I do not
come for any purpose that is at all consonant to my wishes. I am a
Bow-street officer in the execution of my duty--excuse me, therefore." "Whom do you want?" "Francis Beauchamp; and, from the peculiarity of the appearance of this
individual here, I think I may safely request the pleasure of his
company." Varney now rose, and the officer made a rush at him, when he saw him do
so, saying,--

"Surrender in the king's name." Varney, however, paid no attention to that, but rushed past, throwing
his chair down to impede the officer, who could not stay himself, but
fell over it, while Varney made a rush towards the window, which he
cleared at one bound, and crossing the road, was lost to sight in a few
seconds, in the trees and hedges on the other side. "Accidents will happen," said the officer, as he rose to his feet; "I
did not think the fellow would have taken the window in that manner; but
we have him in view, and that will be enough." "In heaven's name," said Henry, "explain all about this; we cannot
understand one word of it--I am at a loss to understand one word of it." "We will return and do so presently," said the officer as he dashed out
of the house after the fugitive at a rapid and reckless speed, followed
by his companion. The man who had been left with the chaise, however, was the first in the
chase; seeing an escape from the window, he immediately guessed that he
was the man wanted, and, but for an accident, he would have met Varney
at the gate, for, as he was getting out in a hurry, his foot became
entangled with the reins, and he fell to the ground, and Varney at the
same moment stepped over him. "Curse his infernal impudence, and d--n these reins!" muttered the man
in a fury at the accident, and the aggravating circumstance of the
fugitive walking over him in such a manner, and so coolly too--it was
vexing. The man, however, quickly released himself, and rushed after Varney
across the road, and kept on his track for some time. The moon was still
rising, and shed but a gloomy light around. Everything was almost
invisible until you came close to it. This was the reason why Varney and
his pursuer met with several severe accidents--fumbles and hard knocks
against impediments which the light and the rapid flight they were
taking did not admit of their avoiding very well. They went on for some time, but it was evident Varney knew the place
best, and could avoid what the man could not, and that was the trees and
the natural impediments of the ground, which Varney was acquainted with.