“Oh please don’t,” cried Mrs. Goddard, imploringly.

John looked at her in some surprise.  The cloud suddenly passed from before the moon and he could see her anxious upturned face quite plainly.  He could not in the least understand the cause of her anxiety, but he supposed her nervousness was connected with her indisposition.  Reynolds on his part, being anxious for beer, showed no disposition to move, but sat with stolid indifference, loosely holding the reins while Strawberry, the old mare, hung down her head and stamped from time to time in a feeble and antiquated fashion.  For some minutes there was total silence.  Not a step was to be heard upon the road, not a sound of any kind, save the strong east wind rushing past the cottage and losing itself among the withered oaks of the park opposite.

Suddenly a deep and bell-mouthed note resounded through the air.  Strawberry started in the shafts and trembled violently.

“Stamboul!  Stamboul!” The squire’s ringing voice was heard far up the park.  The bloodhound’s distant baying suddenly ceased.  John thought he heard a fainter cry, inarticulate, and full of distress, through the sighing wind.  Then there was silence again.  Mrs. Goddard leaned back against the wicket gate, and Nellie, startled by the noises, pressed close to her mother’s side.

“Why—­he has gone up the park!” exclaimed John in great surprise.  “He was calling to his dog—­”

“Oh, Mr. Short!” cried Mrs. Goddard in agonised tones, as soon as she could speak, “I am sure something dreadful has happened—­do go.  Mr. Short—­do go and see—­”

Something of the extreme alarm that sounded in her voice seized upon John.

“Stay with Mrs. Goddard, Reynolds,” he said quickly and darted across the road towards the park gate.  John was strong and active.  He laid his hands upon the highest rails and vaulted lightly over, then ran at the top of his speed up the dark avenue.

Mr. Juxon, in his absence of mind, had gone through the gate alone, swinging his blackthorn stick in his hand, Stamboul stalking at his heel in the gloom.  He was a fearless man and the presence of John during the afternoon had completely dissolved that nervous presentiment of evil he had felt before his guest’s coming.  But in the short walk of scarcely half a mile, from the vicarage to the cottage, his thoughts had become entirely absorbed in considering Mrs. Goddard’s strange position, and for the moment John was quite forgotten.  He entered the park and the long iron latch of the wooden gate fell into its socket behind him with a sharp click.  Mr. Juxon walked quickly on and Stamboul trod noiselessly behind him.  At about a hundred yards from the gate the avenue turned sharply to the right, winding about a little elevation in the ground, where the trees stood thicker than elsewhere.  As he came towards this hillock the strong east wind blew sharply behind him.  Had the wind been in the opposite direction, Stamboul’s sharp nostrils would have scented danger.  As it was he gave no sign but stalked solemnly at the squire’s heels.  The faint light of the half moon was obscured at that moment, as has been seen, by a sweeping cloud.  The squire turned to the right and tramped along the hard road.