"True," Charles agreed. "Anyway, we can but try your idea."
They walked on in silence, until they came to the place where the right-of-way joined the main road into Framley. A few yards up the road the lane that ran past Duval's cottage branched off. They turned into this, and went softly up it till they saw the broken gate that led into the cottage garden. They paused in the lee of the untrimmed hedge, and craned their necks to obtain a glimpse of the tumble-down building. No light shone from either of the upper windows, but they thought they could see a dim glow in the ground floor.
"How many rooms?" Peter whispered.
"One downstairs, besides the kitchen."
Peter stole to the gate, from where he could get a clear view of the cottage. He rejoined Charles in a minute or two. "There is a light burning downstairs," he whispered. "But I think the curtains are drawn. I move that we walk up past the place and wait under the hedge to see whether he comes out or not. If he does he's bound to come this way, and he won't see us if we're the other side of the gate."
Charles nodded, and followed him to a distance of a few yards beyond the gate. A ditch, with a bank surmounted by a hedge, flanked the lane, and they sat down on this bank in silence.
No sound came from the house on the other side ofthe ditch. After perhaps twenty minutes Charles yawned.
"We must look uncommonly silly," he remarked. "I don't believe he's in. Or else he's gone to bed, and left a light burning."
Peter stood up. "I'm going to try and have a look inside," he said.
"You can't go spying in at a man's windows," Charles objected.