chief inhabitants. Now, if report was to be believed, night-birds of a
different species were apt to congregate there.

The lane opened suddenly on Monsieur Joseph's out-buildings, with no
gates or barriers, things unknown in Anjou. Tall oaks and birches,
delicate and grey, leaned across the cream-coloured walls and the high
grey stone roofs where orange moss grew thickly. Low arched doorways
with a sandy court between them led into the kitchen on one side, the
stables on the other. Beyond these again, in the broad still sunshine,
standing squarely alone in a broad space of yellow sand, was Monsieur
Joseph's house, not very old, for the kitchens and stables had belonged
to a little chateau long since pulled down. It also was built of
cream-coloured stone, with a little tower to the west of it, with
playful ironwork and high mansard windows. An odd feature was that it
had no actual door. All the lower windows opened down to the ground,
with nothing but a stone step between them and the sandy soil, so that
the house could be entered or left at any point, through any room.

Two rough roads or country tracks, continuing the lane, passed the house
to the north and south, the northern road wandering away westward under
a wild avenue of old oaks on the edge of a wood into high fields beyond,
the southern crossing broad green slopes that descended gradually into
the valley towards Lancilly, past low copses and brimming streams,
leaving to the east the high moors and La Mariniere with its small
village and spire.

Thus Les Chouettes had a view of its own to the west and south, but
could be seen far off from the south only; woods covering the upper
slope against the sunset. Woods and high land sheltered it again from
the north and east, and the only roads near it were little better than
cart-tracks.

There were long hours at Les Chouettes when no sound was to be heard but
the hooting of owls or screaming of curlews or the odd little squeak of
the squirrels as they darted up and down and about the oak trees.

"He mews like a cat, the little _fouquet_," Monsieur Joseph used to say;
and passionate sportsman as he was, he would never shoot the squirrels
or allow them to be shot by his man, who lamented loudly. Angelot had
caught his uncle's liking for that swift red spirit of the woods, and so
the squirrels had a fine time all over the lands of La Mariniere.

Evidently there was a good deal going on at Les Chouettes, when Angelo