He threw over him a cloak he wore in wet weather, and hid the lantern under it.
'For sure,' he said, 'folks would think it queer if they saw me going out such a summer night as this with a lantern; but I won't go to Wellon's Cairn without, that is certain.'
'Well,' said Mrs. Veale; 'so you have come at last!'
'Yes, I have come. Where is the master? I've not seen him about.'
'He never said nothing to no one, and went off to Holsworthy to-day.'
'When will he be back?'
'Not to-morrow; there's a fair there; the day after, perhaps.'
A heavy black cloud hung in the sky, stretching apparently above Broadbury. Below it the silvery light flowed from behind the horizon. To the east, although it was night, the range of Dartmoor was visible, bathed in the soft reflection from the north-western sky. The tumulus upon which Wellon had been executed was not far out on the heath. Mrs. Veale led the way with firm tread; Charles followed with growing reluctance. A great white owl whisked by. The glowworms were shining mysteriously under tufts of grass. As they pushed through the heather they disturbed large moths. A rabbit dashed past.
'Hush!' whispered Charles. 'I'm sure I heard a horn.'
'Ah!' answered Mrs. Veale, 'Squire Arscott rides the downs at night, they say, and has this hundred years.'