“Ah!”
“Where is your horse?”
“Well out of sight of the path.”
“Good. Listen to that!”
The rapid sound of some brute beast’s breathing drew near out of the silence of the wood. Even Jeffray could hear it as he sat with his eyes fixed on Bess’s face. Then a whistle shrilled out from the darkness of the trees, seeming to make the still air quiver. It was Dan’s whistle, and the panting was the panting of his dog.
Quick as thought Bess started up, beckoned to Jeffray, and ran through the grass towards the hermitage. The man followed her, glancing back over his shoulder at the impenetrable shadows of the yews. Bess sprang in up the low steps of the doorway, seized Richard’s wrist as he entered after her, and, with her face close to his, spoke in a whisper.
“It is Dan, curse him!”
“He may not see us.”
“The devil must have put it into the fool’s head to come this way.”
“Shall I slip out and leave you?”