"Miss Gray and the other lady, yer honour."
He had led out the horse by this time, and I was preparing to mount it, when I saw that he had something more to communicate.
"What is it, Simon?" I said.
He did not speak, but winked slyly at me, and then led the horse away from the stable-yard. As he did so, I saw Kaffar come away from one of the lads who was employed about the house.
"He's a spy, yer honour, a reg'lar Judas Iscariot. T'other chap's called Herod, pity this one isn't called Judas. They be a bootiful couple, yer honour." He looked around again, and then said, "That murderin', waccinatin' willain is gone efter 'em, Mr. Blake. He came back just after they'd gone, and went ridin' efter 'em like greased lightnin'."
For a minute I was stunned.
"I thought I'd better tell 'ee, yer honour, and then you'd know 'ow to act."
I thanked Simon heartily; then, turning my horse's head towards Drearwater Pond, I galloped away. I had not gone far before I began to question the wisdom of what I was doing. Was I right in thus openly defying the man who possessed such a terrible power? It certainly seemed foolish, and yet I could not bear the idea of his being the companion of Gertrude Forrest. Besides, it might stagger him somewhat to find that his words had not frightened me.
With this thought I gave my horse the rein. He was a beautiful high-blooded creature, and seemed to delight in making the snow crystals fly around him, as he scampered over the frozen ground.
I did not know the district at all, but I had been told in what direction Drearwater Pond lay, so I did not doubt that I should easily find them. When I came to the spot, however, those I hoped to find were nowhere to be seen, and so, guiding the horse up to the dark waters, I stood and looked at the little lake that bore such a sombre name. It was indeed a dreary place. On one side was wild moorland, and on the other a plantation of firs edged the dismal pond. It might be about a quarter of a mile long, and perhaps one-sixth of a mile wide. There were no houses near, and the high-road was some distance away. It was not an attractive place for several reasons. The region was very drear, and, moreover, the place had a bad reputation. The pond was said to have no bottom, while a murder having been committed on the moors near by, the country people said that dark spirits of the dead were often seen to float over the Drearwaters in the silent night.