They were two men and a woman—the last so shrouded in cloak and hood, that her age could not be guessed at, except from her lithe form and agile step—both proclaiming her to be young.
The cloak, of a deep crimson colour, was the property of Bet Dancey; and it was Bet’s bold figure it enveloped.
Her companions were her own father, and Gregory Garth.
As the narrow path prevented them from walking side by side, they proceeded in single file—the ex-footpad in the lead, Dancey close following upon his heels, and Bet bringing up the rear.
This arrangement was not favourable to conversation in a low tone of voice; and, as the errand, on which they were going abroad at that late hour of night, might be supposed to require secrecy, by a tacit understanding between them, all three preserved silence, throughout the whole time they were travelling along the forest path.
Wapsey’s Wood was separated from the park by a tract of pasture—interspersed with patches of gorse and heather. Through this the path ran direct to a rustic stile—which permitted a passage over, the palings. Inside the enclosure was a broad belt of heavy timber—oak, elm, and chestnut—through which the track continued on towards the dwelling.
It was the south-western wing of Sir Marmaduke’s mansion that was thus approached; and, the timber once traversed, a portion of the building might be seen—with the walls enclosing the courtyard at the back. The garden, with its fruit trees and ornamental shrubbery, extended in this direction—with its encircling fence; but this being constructed in the style of a moat, and, of course, sunk below the surface of the general level, was not visible from a distance.
After passing silently over the stile, the trio of night promenaders forsook the ordinary path; and kept on towards the house in a circuitous direction.
Having traversed the belt of timber—with the same cautious silence as they had hitherto observed—they arrived upon its edge, opposite the rear of the mansion, and at a point some hundred yards distant from the moated wall. There, as if by mutual agreement, they came to a stop—still keeping under the shadow of the trees.
If this precaution was for the purpose of concealment, it was superfluous: for the night was pitch dark—like that which had preceded it—and in the sky above there were similar indications of a storm. It was in effect a repetition of that electric congestion, that had disturbed the atmosphere on the previous night—to be in like manner dispersed by a deluge of rain.