“What do you make of those?” he enquired.
Middleton did not hesitate. He shook his head gravely.
“Was anything heard last night, sir?”
“There was an infernal yell underneath this window.”
“That was the spirit of Roger Unthank, for sure,” Middleton pronounced, with a little shudder. “When he do come out of that wood, he do call.”
“Spirits,” his master pointed out, “do not leave tracks like that behind.”
Middleton considered the matter.
“They do say hereabout,” he confided, “that the spirit of Roger Unthank have been taken possession of by some sort of great animal, and that it do come here now and then to be fed.”
“By whom?” Dominey enquired patiently.
“Why, by Mrs. Unthank.”