The sky was more noticeable here; one was more conscious of the enormous silent vault, crowded with the steady stars, cool and aloof; and, beneath, of the feverish little town with sparks of red light dotted here and there, where men wrangled and planned and bargained, and carried on the little affairs of their little life with such astonishing zest.  Jack was far from philosophical as a rule, but it is a fact that meditations of this nature did engross him for a minute or two while he sat and waited for Frank, and heard the low voices talking in the lane outside.  It even occurred to him for an instant that it was just possible that what Frank had said in the smoking-room before dinner was true, and that Something really did have him in hand, and really, did intend a definite plan and result to emerge from this deplorable and quixotic nonsense. (I suppose the contrast of stars and human lights may have helped to suggest this sort of thing to him.)

Then he gave himself up again to dismal considerations of a more particular kind.

* * * * *

He heard Frank come out, and turned to see him in the dim light, bag in hand, dressed again as he had been three days ago.  On his head once more was the indescribable cap; on his body the indescribable clothes.  He wore on his feet the boots in which he had tramped the moors that day.  (How far away seemed that afternoon now, and the cheerful lunch in the sunshine on the hill-top!)

“Here I am, Jack.”

Then every promise went to the winds.  Jack stood up and took a step towards him.

“Frank, I do implore you to give up this folly.  I asked you not to do it at Cambridge, and I ask you again now.  I don’t care a damn what I promised.  It’s simple madness, and—­”

Frank had wheeled without a word, and was half-way to the gate.  Jack stumbled after him, calling under his breath; but the other had already passed through the gate and joined the Major and Gertie before Jack could reach him.

“And so you think up here is the right direction?” Frank was saying.

“I got some tips at the ‘Crown,’” said the Major.  “There are some farms up there, where—­”

“Frank, may I speak to you a minute?”

“No....  All right, Major; I’m ready at once if you are.”

He turned towards Jack.

“By the way,” he said, “what’s in this parcel?”

“Something to eat and drink,” murmured Jack.

“Oh ...  I shan’t want that, thanks very much.  Here’s the bag with the clothes in it.  I’m awfully grateful, old man, for all your kindness.  Awfully sorry to have bothered you.”

“By the way, Frankie,” put in the hateful voice at his side, “I’ll take charge of that parcel, if you don’t want it.”

“Catch hold, then,” said Frank.  “You’re welcome to it, if you’ll carry it.  You all right, Gertie?”

The girl murmured something inaudible.  As at their first meeting, she had said nothing at all.  The Major lifted a bundle out of the depths of the hedge, slung it on his stick, and stood waiting, his face again illuminated with the glow of his pipe.  He had handed the new parcel to Gertie without a word.