And now Conspirator No.  One rises, and ties the mouth of the sack with string he had brought with him for the purpose, and setting down the sack, bulky now and heavy, by Conspirator No.  Two, takes up the spade and begins to dig.  And, in a while, having made an excavation not very deep to be sure, but sufficient to his purpose, he deposits the sack within, covers it with soil, treads it down, and replacing the torn sod, carefully pats it down with the flat of his spade.  Which thing accomplished, Conspirator No.  One wipes his brow, and stepping forth of the shadow, consults his watch with anxious eye, and, thereupon, smiles,—­surely a singularly pleasing smile for the lips of an arch-conspirator to wear.  Thereafter he takes up the black bag, empty now, shoulders the spade, and sets off, keeping once more in the shadows, leaving Conspirator No.  Two to guard their guilty secret.

Now, as Conspirator No.  One goes his shady way, he keeps his look directed towards the rising moon, and thus he almost runs into one who also stands amid the shadows and whose gaze is likewise fixed upon the moon.

“Ah?—­Mr. Bellew!” exclaims a drawling voice, and Squire Cassilis turns to regard him with his usual supercilious smile.  Indeed Squire Cassilis seems to be even more self-satisfied, and smiling than ordinary, to-night,—­or at least Bellew imagines so.

“You are still agriculturally inclined, I see,” said Mr. Cassilis, nodding towards the spade, “though it’s rather a queer time to choose for digging, isn’t it?”

“Not at all, sir—­not at all,” returned Bellew solemnly, “the moon is very nearly at the full, you will perceive.”

“Well, sir,—­and what of that?”

“When the moon is at the full, or nearly so, I generally dig, sir,—­that is to say, circumstances permitting.”

“Really,” said Mr. Cassilis beginning to caress his moustache, “it seems to me that you have very—­ah—­peculiar tastes, Mr. Bellew.”

“That is because you have probably never experienced the fierce joys of moon-light digging, sir.”

“No, Mr. Bellew,—­digging—­as a recreation, has never appealed to me at any time.”

“Then sir,” said Bellew, shaking his head, “permit me to tell you that you have missed a great deal.  Had I the time, I should be delighted to explain to you exactly how much, as it is—­allow me to wish you a very good evening.”

Mr. Cassilis smiled, and his teeth seemed to gleam whiter, and sharper than ever in the moon-light: 

“Wouldn’t it be rather more apropos if you said—­’Good-bye’ Mr. Bellew?” he enquired.  “You are leaving Dapplemere, shortly, I understand,—­aren’t you?”

“Why sir,” returned Bellew, grave, and imperturbable as ever,—­“it all depends.”

“Depends!—­upon what, may I ask?”

“The moon, sir.”

“The moon?”

“Precisely!”

“And pray—­what can the moon have to do with your departure?”