It was a woman and she was watching him. The shock was so sudden that he had the greatest difficulty in preserving his presence of mind. He decided to continue in the direction he was going as though bound on some definite journey.
“You like the night-air, stranger, for your travels,” she said in a shrill voice. She evidently did not mean to let him pass her.
“Ay, mother,” he said, “a night like this is as good for travel as the day.”
He gathered at once who it was from Aline’s description. It was “Moll o’ the graves,” and she seemed to rivet him to the spot with the gaze of her unholy, but still beautiful eyes. She was holding a bone in her claw-like hands and was gnawing the flesh off it. He could not help noticing that she yet had excellent teeth. Could she by any chance know who he was? In any case she had seen him now, so he might stand and see if he could draw her out. However, she went on,—“I’ve heard physicians recommend the night air for travellers with a sick conscience.”
“Then if that be the case,” he answered, “it might apply to you as well as to me.”
“Perhaps it may,” she said, “but I enjoy the fresh night air for its own sake:—
O Moon that watches from the sky,
We see strange things, the moon and I.”
crooned the old woman, beating time with her staff.
“Do you know this part of the world?” she said suddenly.