MISS MOYAT'S PROMISE

We stood looking at one another on the edge of the marsh. In the clear
morning sunlight I had no chance of escape or subterfuge. There was
terror in my face, and she could see it.

"You--you cannot be sure!" I exclaimed. "It may not be the same man."

"It is the same man," she answered confidently. "He stopped me and
asked if I could direct him to your house. It was about half an hour
after you had gone. He spoke very softly and almost like a foreigner.
I told him exactly where your cottage was. Didn't he come to you?"

"No," I answered. "I have never seen him before in my life."

"Why do you look--so terrified?" she asked. "You are as pale as a
ghost."

I clutched hold of the railings. She came over to my side. Up the road
I heard in the distance the crunching of heavy wheels. A wagon was
passing through the lodge gates. John, the woodman, was walking with
unaccustomed briskness by the horses' heads, cracking his whip as he
came. I looked into the girl's face by my side.

"Miss Moyat," I said hoarsely, "can't you forget that you saw this man?"

"Why?" she asked bewildered.

"I don't want to be dragged into it," I answered, glancing nervously
over my shoulder along the road. "Don't you see that if he is just