“There has been,” Harrison said, and pointed to the lake whose level surface was now flawed here and there by a tiny ripple that flashed an occasional reflected sparkle from the high moon.
“Queer!” Greatorex ejaculated, and shivered as if he were suddenly cold.
“But, after all, why queer, G.,?” Harrison expostulated, although there was still a note of uneasiness in his voice. “I—I mean, there are always, on the stillest night, these slight movements of the air. We happen to notice it because it’s so particularly still.”
“Uncannily still,” Greatorex murmured.
“Oh! damn it, G.,” Harrison expostulated; “if you’re going to get superstitious about meteorological conditions....”
“It’s no use pretending, Harrison,” Greatorex returned. “There is something uncanny about this place to-night. I’m not a superstitious man, as you know, but I don’t mind confessing that I’ve got the creeps.” He shivered again, and then added, “Come along, let’s get back to your familiar house. I’ve had enough of this.”
Harrison’s only reply at the moment was a grunt of annoyance, but after they had turned into the path between the yews he began to talk again. “Admitting,” he said, “that my nerves, too, are a trifle on edge, what does that prove, unless it is that we still retain something of the emotional fear of the savage?”
“What a chap you are for proving things this evening,” Greatorex returned. “That argument with Vernon has upset you.”
“They lay such stress on all these subjective reactions,” Harrison grumbled, evidently continuing his own line of thought. “A normal psychology....”
But at this point they came out of the plantation into the clear spaces of the meadow and were instantly hailed by Fell and Mrs. Greatorex, who came forward to meet them.