It appears that Ralph was not less the subject of consideration with the individual in question.  We have seen the degree and kind of espionage which the former had felt at one time disposed to resent; and how he was defeated in his design by the sudden withdrawal of the obnoxious presence.  On his departure with Forrester from the gallery, Rivers reappeared—­his manner that of doubt and excitement; and, after hurrying for a while with uncertain steps up and down the apartment, he passed hastily into the adjoining hall, where the landlord sat smoking, drinking, and expatiating at large with his guests.  Whispering something in his ear, the latter rose, and the two proceeded into the adjoining copse, at a point as remote as possible from hearing, when the explanation of this mysterious caution was opened by Rivers.

“Well, Munro, we are like to have fine work with your accursed and blundering good-nature.  Why did you not refuse lodgings to this youngster?  Are you ignorant who he is?  Do you not know him?”

“Know him?—­no, I know nothing about him.  He seems a clever, good-looking lad, and I see no harm in him.  What is it frightens you?” was the reply and inquiry of the landlord.

“Nothing frightens me, as you know by this time, or should know at least.  But, if you know not the young fellow himself you should certainly not be at a loss to know the creature he rides; for it is not long since your heart was greatly taken with him.  He is the youth we set upon at the Catcheta pass, where your backwardness and my forwardness got me this badge—­it has not yet ceased to bleed—­the marks of which promise fairly to last me to my grave.”

As he spoke he raised the handkerchief which bound his cheeks, and exposed to view a deep gash, not of a serious character indeed, but which, as the speaker asserted, would most probably result in a mark which would last him his life.  The exposure of the face confirms the first and unfavorable impression which we have already received from his appearance, and all that we have any occasion now to add in this respect will be simply, that, though not beyond the prime of life, there were ages of guilt, of vexed and vexatious strife, unregulated pride, without aim or elevation, a lurking malignity, and hopeless discontent—­all embodied in the fiendish and fierce expression which that single glimpse developed to the spectator.  He went on—­

“Had it been your lot to be in my place, I should not now have to tell you who he is; nor should we have had any apprehensions of his crossing our path again.  But so it is.  You are always the last to your place;—­had you kept your appointment, we should have had no difficulty, and I should have escaped the mortification of being foiled by a mere stripling, and almost stricken to death by the heel of his horse.”