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Still deep in thought Brendon tramped on; and then, where the road
fell between a high bank to the windward side and a pine wood on the
other, he experienced one of the greatest surprises that life had
yet brought him.
At a gate, which hung parallel with the road and opened into the
depth of a copse behind, there stood Robert Redmayne.
The five-barred gate alone separated them and the big man lolled
over it with his arms crossed on the topmost bar. The moonlight beat
full into his face, and overhead the pines uttered a harsh and
sullen roar as the wind surged over them; while from far below the
shout of an angry sea upon the cliffs was carried upward. The red
man stood motionless, watchful. He wore the tweed clothes, cap and
red waistcoat that Brendon well remembered at Foggintor; the
moonlight flashed on his startled eyes and showed his great mustache
and white teeth visible beneath it. There was dread upon his face
and haggard misery, yet no madness.
It seemed that he kept a tryst there; but it had not been Mark
Brendon that he expected.


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