He filled his pipe slowly. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. “I might go home, I don’t know. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. " So saying, he slung it upon his wrist. I begin to fear I might be purposely go out of the way. There are unwritten laws governing human conduct.
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