He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Ennison paused by the little gate. Kneebone,—pray go!" implored Winifred. "He's dead," exclaimed Austin. I sha'n't utter a word. Sheppard, disregarding the taunt, "come away. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House.
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