“Right. You have a torch, haven’t you?”
“Yes; I’ll fetch it. You stay here to guard the womenfolk.”
I made dizzy haste up the spiral stairs and down again, and found the three outside the french window where the intruder had stood. Aire was lighting matches in search of footprints, but as had been predicted, vainly. We agreed that it would be best for the two girls to return to the conservatory and keep watch through the windows, having care to remain invisible. If anything untoward happened, they were to signal us by switching on the light, at the same time ringing for the servants if danger was evident.
Aire and I went side by side over the lawn toward the small solitary copse. First one of us flashed the light along the sward while the other tried to penetrate the darkness ahead; then we reversed duties. As for footprints, if there were any they were exceedingly light and vague, and singularly small, but we could not even agree there was a definite trail.
The distance from the House to the cypresses was over two hundred feet, and before we had covered the distance the Vale was filled with a soft illumination, as if twilight had re-begun. On our right, the moon was rising over Whimble, a crescent moon glowing like white-hot metal. Then Aire, who had been looking ahead, drew up.
“Something’s among the trees for sure.”
While he spoke I saw movement underneath the horizontal branches, and that queer, black-robed, conic figure—unmistakably the same I had seen on the evening of my arrival—swiftened from the shelter of the cypresses toward the expansive darkness of the park where the summer-house stood. The long loose-flying sleeves flapped curiously as if there were no arms within them. The wide garment spread along the ground, but we had no sight of legs or feet, and I admit I felt uneasy at the thought that if we caught this unknown, it might prove to have no face.
We ran in pursuit, but I was careful not to outstrip Aire, lest the thing should turn and fell us separately. In consequence, we barely maintained our distance, and had the mortification of seeing the black robe merge with the night among the sycamores of the park.
“Hear that?”
“It’s jumped into the stream.”