Stafford flashed the light again upon the spectacled, wondering face of Professor Machaffy of Bee-bar-oo, somewhere in New South Wales, who again said "Shucks," before he became a shadow in the gloom.
"I take a little walk almost every night," said the Professor mildly, "before I go in to sort specimens. It fills the lungs with ozone. And you! You also take a little walk." There was a distinct quiver of understanding laughter in his good-natured old voice.
"On fine nights the unseen world is very beautiful, because as a lost love, you remember all its perfections," went on the Professor. "The darkness is Zimmerian," he added blandly.
"Never quite lost the German accent, Professor?" said Basil easily. There was a pause; the Professor, judging by the shower of shingle, appeared to have kicked some of it.
"After several years' study—there," he said slowly. "It is difficult, Mr. Stafford. I'm learning, as in war they study closely," he added. "We have no such scientists in England. I bid you good-night. It is time for me to get in."
They could hear him chuckle again as he shuffled off.
One by one the lights at Castle Freyne were blinking out; Matilda Freyne was going to bed.
"And you?" said Stafford, a little anxiously to Gheena.
"I—oh!" Gheena explained her side entrance.
Mr. Stafford said if that was so, he had just found a new and vicious prickle in the palm of his hand. She could feel it—there was no need of light.