CHAPTER XXV.
THE HARE HUNT.
Directly Mrs. Veale, followed by Charles, came outside the house the former turned and said, with a chuckle, 'You want a lantern, do y', a summer night such as this?'
The sky was full of twilight, every thorn tree and holly bush was visible on the hedges, every pebble in the yard.
'I'm not going to Wellon's Cairn without,' said Luxmore, sulkily. 'I don't want to go at all; and I won't go there without light.'
'Very well. I will wait at the gate for you.'
He went into the stable, where was a horn-sided tin lantern, and took it down from its crook, then went back into the kitchen and lighted the candle at the fire.
'I've a mind not to go,' he muttered. 'What does the woman want with me, pulling me, driving me, this way and that? If I'd been told I was to be subjected to this sort of persecution, I wouldn't have come here. It's not to be endured for ninepence. Ninepence! It would be bad at eighteen pence. I wish I was in Afghanistan. Cawbul, Ghuznee, Candahar don't astonish her. She ain't open-mouthed at them, but sets my hair on end with her Hand of Glory, and talks of how money is to be got. I know what she is after; she wants me to run away with her and the cash box. I won't do it—not with her, for certain; not with the cash box if I can help it. I don't believe a word about a Hand of Glory. I'm curious to know how she'll get out of it, now she's promised to show it me.'
He started, and swore.
'Gorr!' he said; 'it's only a rat behind the wainscot; I thought it was the hand creeping after me. I suppose I must go. For certain, Mrs. Veale is a bad un. But; what is that? The shadow of my own hand on the wall, naught else.'