CHAPTER VIII.
A MYSTERIOUS YOUNG MAN.
The baronet leaped to his feet, and stood face to face with his preserver.

The giant trees, towering up until they seemed to pierce the sky, half shut out the moonlight, but yet Sir Everard could see that it was a slender stripling who stood before him, a slouched hat pulled far over his eyes.
"I owe you my life," he cried, grasping the youth's hand.

"An instant later, and I would have been in eternity.

How shall I ever thank you ?" "Don't make the attempt," replied the lad, coolly.

"It was the merest chance-work in the world that sent me here to-night." "Don't call it chance, my boy.