“For the Grey Monk, perhaps?” suggested the keeper, with a chuckle in his voice.
“You forget that the Grey Monk wears a cowl, and not even by starlight could your wide-awake be mistaken for that.”
“Wide-awake or no wide-awake, sir, I’ve reason to believe that more than one timid servant lass has been ready to take her affidavy that she had seen the Grey Monk, when it’s only been me that she’s caught sight of in the dark, prowling among the trees, on the lookout for gins and snares.”
“By the way,” said Alec, but with the tone of one whose mind had far more serious things to occupy it, “has anything been seen of the family spectre of late?”
“No, sir—not of late. It’s nigh on for three years since it was seen last, and then it was her ladyship who was nearly frightened out of her wits by it. She was coming downstairs at the time, and had reached the lowermost landing, when she saw the Grey Monk glide across the hall in the moonlight. She shrieked out, and they do say she nearly fainted. The best of it was that up to then she had always made light of the ghost, and said its appearances were nothing more than ’lucinations, whatever they may be. But she never said so after that night. Sir Gilbert was awfully wild when he heard about it, and would fain have hushed it up; but it was too late. However, that’s an old wife’s tale by this time. As I said afore, sir, I’m mortal glad to see you.”
“Not for one moment do I doubt you, old friend. All the same, I am sure you would like to know why I am here and where I am bound for at this hour of the night. Listen! there is the turret clock striking twelve. Well, I will tell you.”
He waited till the clock had done striking; then resumed:
“I have just left my father. He and I have said goodbye to each other for a long time to come. I am on my way to Westwood station: you know the near cut. Forty-eight hours hence I shall have left England, to return I know not when.”
“I am main sorry to hear that, Master Alec,” remarked the keeper in a tone of real concern. In common with everybody connected with the Chase, and a good many people in no wise connected with it—for such things cannot be kept secret—he was cognisant of the breach between Sir Gilbert and his heir, and could form a pretty shrewd guess as to the origin of it.
“And I am no less sorry to have it to tell,” replied Alec. “Now, when I tell you further that I don’t want anyone to know of my present visit to the Chase, nor to hear from your lips that you have as much as set eyes on me, you will, I am sure, respect my wishes.”