Between the two, behind the hill, was the house of the Stapletons.

All was sweet and mellow and peaceful in the golden evening light, and yet as I looked at them my soul shared none of the peace of Nature but quivered at the vagueness and the terror of that interview which every instant was bringing nearer.

With tingling nerves but a fixed purpose, I sat in the dark recess of the hut and waited with sombre patience for the coming of its tenant.
And then at last I heard him.

Far away came the sharp clink of a boot striking upon a stone.

Then another and yet another, coming nearer and nearer.