"Then it's settled," laughed Penny. "While you're shaving, I'll run down and see our landlord. Perhaps I can borrow a few supplies from him too."
Mr. Nichols tossed her the car keys.
"No, I'll walk," Penny called over her shoulder as she left the cottage. "I need the exercise."
By daylight the old Crocker home was nearly as gloomy as when viewed amid the shadows. Penny paused at the entrance of the narrow, rutty lane and stared at the place. Everything was quiet. The blinds were all drawn and she could see no one moving about.
"It looks almost as if no one were here," she thought.
The winding lane led through the trees to the house and on either side were rows of tall, uncut privet hedge.
Suddenly as Penny walked hurriedly along, she was startled to see a lean, yellow hound hurl itself over the top of the hedge directly in her path. She stopped short. The animal bared his fangs, growling low.
Penny was not afraid of dogs as a usual thing, but she had never seen a more vicious looking hound. She had every reason to believe that if she tried to go on up the lane he would attack.
Penny reached down and seized a stout stick. She did not know whether to try to advance or retreat.
As she was eying the hound speculatively, Penny heard another sound directly behind her. She whirled about to see an old man with intent dark eyes watching her from beyond the hedge. Only his face was visible for the dense green foliage completely screened his body.