copse, whistling softly my three bars of "Lillibulero." Then I plunged
into it. The bracken underfoot rustled and rustled. I came to a halt.
A little bar of light lay on the horizon in front of me, almost
colourless. It was crossed again and again by the small fir-trunks that
were little more than wands. A woodpigeon rose with a sudden crash of
sound, flapping away against the branches. My pulse was dancing with
delight--my heart, too. It was like a game of hide-and-seek, and yet it
was life at last. Everything grew silent again and I began to think I
had missed my time. Down below in the plain, a great way off, a dog was
barking continuously. I moved forward a few paces and whistled. The
glow of adventure began to die away. There was nothing at all--a little
mystery of light on the tree-trunks.

I moved forward again, getting back towards the road. Against the
glimmer of dead light I thought I caught the outlines of a man's hat
down among the tossing lines of the bracken. I whispered loudly:

"Carlos! Carlos!"

There was a moment of hoarse whispering; a sudden gruff sound. A shaft
of blazing yellow light darted from the level of the ground into my
dazed eyes. A man sprang at me and thrust something cold and knobby
into my neckcloth. The light continued to blaze into my eyes; it moved
upwards and shone on a red waistcoat dashed with gilt buttons. I
was being arrested.... "In the King's name...." It was a most sudden
catastrophe. A hand was clutching my windpipe.

"Don't you so much as squeak, Mr. Castro," a voice whispered in my ear.

The lanthorn light suddenly died out, and I heard whispers.