"But who in the world are you?" she whispered.

"I think," said I, bending over her hand, "I have fairly earned the
right to withhold that."

Sir Harry bowed a stiff good night to me, and William, the footman,
took a candle and led the way along the gallery and down the great
staircase to the front door. While he undid the chain and bolts I
was thinking that he would be all the better for a kick; and as he
drew aside to let me pass I took him quickly by the collar, spun him
round, and gave him one. A flight of a dozen steps led down from the
front door, and he pitched clean to the bottom. Running down after,
I skipped over his prostrate body and walked briskly away in the
darkness, whistling and feeling better.

I went round the end of the gallery wing, just to satisfy myself that
Jimmy had got away with the ladder, and then I struck across the
plantation in the direction of the village. The June day was
breaking before I turned out of the woods into the high road, and
already the mowers were out and tramping to their work. But in the
porchway of the village inn--called the "Well-diggers' Arms"--
whatever they may be--I surprised a cockneyfied groom in the act of
kissing a maiden who, having a milk-pail in either hand, could not be
expected to resist.

"H'm," said I to the man, "I am sorry to appear inopportunely, but I
have a message for your master."

The maiden fled. "And who the doose may you be?" asked the groom,