“Meanwhile,” said Wynkin, “there is a good Providence over us all.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Lady Chauncy, as she rose and went to her sleeping-chamber, but not to sleep.
When, however, the last light was out in the windows of the Manor House Wynkin let himself out by a little postern of the garden wall, and strolled onward by way of the bit of waste ground till he reached the edge of the thicket, walking to and fro under the trees by the dim light of the moon, cogitating deeply over a curious circumstance which he had decided not to inform his mistress of in too great haste, lest her hopes might be raised to no purpose. The one very certain fact was that when he and Dickon came that morning about six o’clock to unload the punt of the sacks, he had found the crimson frieze cloak on the top of them, all crumpled and mud soiled, and touched here and there with marks like tiny finger-marks. In some dim fashion it made Wynkin fancy that he began to see daylight. At all events, he suddenly saw the light of a lantern dodging about before him among the furze clumps—and as already more than a day had gone by since Charles was missing, and such news spreads like wildfire in spite of the utmost precaution, Wynkin was considerably disturbed at sight of the light, which glanced now and again on the figure of a person in a broad slouch-brimmed hat and shrouded in a long black cloak.
“Hullo!” he called, “who goes there?”
“Nobody,” replied a disagreeable squeaky sort of man’s voice. “Anyway, ’tis no concern of yours.”
“We’ll soon settle that question, Master Jack o’ Lantern,” said Wynkin, bounding down over the hillocks towards the figure. Not, however, before the man, dropping the lantern right into the middle of the gorse clump he was hovering over, was pelting off as quick as his heavy cloak would let him.
In a minute Wynkin would have laid him by the heels, but suddenly up rose a tremendous flare, for the lantern had fallen open as it dropped and the light had caught the gorse, and the strange part of it all was that, as the bush broke into one huge flame, it fell disappearing into the ground, as if there was a deep hole beneath. Looking down, that was precisely what Wynkin beheld, a deep hole, bricked round, and in one side a half-open grated door.
