oor road during the days of the
Tryst at Longtown. So the feeble light of our lanterns in the winter
morning could reveal nothing as to the means by which Dapple had
reached home, nor yet who had brought her. Indeed, we were all more
than a little dazed. It seemed such a terrible, unthinkable event, the
loss of my father, that no one after him could feel secure. He had
been the strongest among us, and if he had fallen to the knife of the
secret criminal the only question in Breckonside was, Who was to be the
next to go?

Mingled with all this, there was a curious deference toward me, wholly
new in my experience. The villagers called me "Mister Joseph," instead
of "Joe," as had been their wont. They consulted me as to the steps to
be taken--without, however, any very great idea of acting upon what I
had to advise. Indeed, that morning, there did not seem to be but the
one thing to do--that was, to go as quickly as possible to Deep Moat
Grange, and lay hands upon the whole uncanny crew Mr. Stennis had
gathered about him there.

It was the earliest grey of the December morning--which is to say,
little better than night--when we descended the slopes of Brom Common,
crossed the road, and entered into the woods which surrounded Deep Moat
Grange. Not without considerable difficulty could I induce the
searchers to extinguish their lanterns. And there were more than one
of these hunters of men who would have been glad of any excuse to turn
back now---men, too, who had been the bravest of the brave when the
familiar sights and sounds of the village street compassed them about.

Several of the searchers kept looking over their shoulders and
examining the branches of the trees curiously, as if afraid that Mad
Jeremy might suddenly descend upon their shoulders from these tossing
arms netted so blackly between them and the sky.

The dead leaves scuffed and crisped under foot. Sometimes a roosting
bird, disturbed in its slumbers, or an early-questing, wild creature
scurried away into the underbrush. It was an eerie journey, and it was
with a breath of relief that I found myself stopped at the Moat, with
the water sleeping beneath, black and icebound for want of a current.
The drawbridge was up, and at first it seemed that we had come to the
end of our tether. But a little testing and scrambling showed me that
the Moat was covered with ice strong enough to support us all, going
over carefully and one by one.

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