“That’s the place. It’s between Horsham and Guildford.”
“And there’s no proper caretaker, only a man at the lodge.”
“We can make a blaze of it. We shall hear from Galahad at Horsham.”
They were human enough to feel a retaliating vindictiveness, after the way they had been pelted at Pulborough, and Eve, looking down at the paper that Joan Gaunt held, realised at last that they were incendiaries as well as preachers. She could not read the precious document, but she guessed what it contained.
“Is that our Black List?”
“Yes.”
They did not offer to explain the cipher to her, for she was still something of a probationer. Moreover the candle was guttering out, and Lizzie Straker had to smother it in the grass beside the stack. Eve returned to her corner, made a nest, took off her hat, and, turning her knapsack into a pillow, lay down to look at the stars. A long day in the open had made her sleepy, but Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker were still talking. Eve fell asleep, with the vindictive and conspiring murmur of their voices in her ears.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE MAN WITH THE MOTOR