"
Mohun drew out his watch; scratched a match which he drew from a small
metal case.
"Just eleven," he said; "there is time to arrive before midnight, if we
ride well--will you show me the way?"
I saw that he was bent on his scheme, and said no more. In a few
moments we were in the saddle, and riding at full speed toward the
house where the meeting was to take place.
Mohun rode like the wild huntsman, and mile after mile disappeared
behind us--flitting away beneath the rapid hoofs of our horses. During
the whole ride he scarcely opened his lips. He seemed to be reflecting
deeply, and to scarcely realize my presence.
At last we turned into the Brock road, and were soon near the lonely
house.
"We have arrived," I said, leaping the brushwood fence. And we galloped
up the knoll toward the house, which was as dark and silent as the
grave.
Dismounting and concealing our horses in the bushes, we opened the
door. Mohun again had recourse to his match-case, and lit the candle
left by Nighthawk on an old pine table, and glanced at his watch.
"Midnight exactly!" he said; "we have made a good ride of it, Surry."
"Yes; and now that I have piloted you safely, Mohun, I will discreetly
retire."
"Why not remain, if you think it will amuse you, my dear friend?"
"But you are going to discuss your private affairs, are you not?"
"They are not private from you, since I have promised to relate my
whole life to you.
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