"Ga'rabotin! but I thought it was the devil himself," said the Sénéchal, as the others came hurrying up. "Why the deuce can't people tie up their horses as they do their cows? I'll bring it up at the next Chef Plaids"—which consideration restored his shaken equanimity somewhat, and made him feel himself again.
Nothing more came of all their watching, and over a jorum of something hot one night, after they had returned to the Doctor's house, it was himself who said—
"After all, it stands to reason. Some evil-possessed soul seeks victims, and has fixed on the Coupée as the place best fitted for his work. No one now goes near the Coupée at night—ergo, no victims; ergo, no—er—no manifestations."
"H'm! Very clever!" said the Sénéchal, through his pipe. "Where does that leave us, then?"
"We must have a decoy, of course."
"H'm! You'll not get any Sark man to act as decoy to the devil. Besides, they would talk, and that would upset the whole thing."
"What about one of your men, Gard?"
"It's a dangerous game for any man to play, Doctor.... I don't quite see how one could ask it of them,"—and after a pause of concentrated thought and many slow smoke-puffs—"What would you say to me?" and all their eyes settled on him—the Doctor's professionally.
"Surely you have suffered enough in this matter, Mr. Gard," suggested the Vicar.
"I would give a good deal, and do a good deal, to get to the bottom of it all. Things will never settle down properly till this matter is disposed of."