“I again looked at the trees and listened. Suddenly, although there had been absolute silence before, I heard a faint breathing sound, a very gentle murmur. It came from over the distant knoll. At first very soft and low, but gradually getting louder and louder, it rushed past us into the wood beyond. I saw once more the great trees rock beneath it; and again I heard those voices—those of the woman and the man.
“Leethwaite looked ill, very ill, I thought. I touched him on the arm. ‘You are not frightened,’ I said; ‘you—a member of the New Supernatural Investigation Society?’
“‘Something is going to happen,’ he gasped. ‘I feel it—I know it. We shall see the murder—we shall know the secret of death. What is that?’
“Away in the distance the tap-tapping of shoes came through the still night air. Tap—tap—tap, down the path from the knoll.
“I clutched Leethwaite by the arm. ‘You think you will see the murder, do you? And the murderer!’
“Leethwaite didn’t answer. His breath came in gasps; he looked about him like a man at bay.
“‘And the murderer! Ha! It comes from there. See, it is looking at us from those trees. It is all arms and legs; it has no human face. It will drop to the earth, and then we shall see what happens.’
“Tap, tap, tap—the steps grew louder—nearer and nearer they came. The great shadows stole down, one by one, to meet them. I looked at Leethwaite. He was fearfully expectant; so was I.
“A woman came tripping along the path. I knew her in an instant—there was the shabby shawl, the basket on her arm—it was the same. She approached the wicket.
“I looked at Leethwaite. He was spellbound with fear. I touched his arm. I dragged him with me. ‘Come,’ I whispered, ‘we shall see which of us is right. You think the ghostly murderer will resemble us—will resemble men. It will not. Come.’