bserve--whenever it was
moonlight--the little dell that ran down to the burn wherein the
shepherd and dog had been drowned.

Silence reigned supreme. I could just hear the gentle brushings of the
yew branches as they rose and fell upon the wind--the ghostly sighing of
a ghostly spirit that had once belonged, perhaps, to the former owner of
the Castle.

I was fairly comfortable with my back against the trunk of the yew, and
ate chocolate instead of smoking; hours passed, and I had fits of
drowsiness, and began to think I was wasting my time.

Then on a sudden I woke with a start; some nerve in my subconsciousness
had warned me in time; I was certain some one or something was near that
was uncanny.

The moonlight flooded the little dell, I saw a black shadow advancing
swiftly on all fours, not unlike a big baboon. What in Heaven's name was
it?

A touch of ice slid down my spine--the unknown with its terrors besieged
my brain--the apparition was too big for a dog. I gazed, rooted to my
perch, unable to move a hand or foot.

The creature drew swiftly closer, then on the sudden rose up; I saw the
glint of the moonlight touch on a gun barrel, and discovered that the
bearer was a man.

I breathed more freely, but--what was he doing with the gun? Then I
caught sight of a dog padding swiftly after the newcomer, who was now
close beside the mausoleum, and stood erect beside the wall two yards
away from me. I did not stir, but watched him in a fascinated attention.
Just as the press of cloud again obscured the moon I saw him take a bag
from his back out of which pheasants' tails were distinctly protruding.
I almost laughed aloud, for I recognised that it was only a poacher I
had to deal with. In one hand I held my torch, in the other my revolver.

'Have you had good sport?' I asked, as I covered him with both my
weapons simultaneously. He jumped back in alarm, then, 'Who the devil
are you?' he inquired hoarsely, and in another second recovering
himself, cried to the dog, '_Sick him, Tyke_.'

'Call off your damned dog,' I retorted, pulling up my feet, 'or I
shoot.'

He hesitated a moment, pulling his gun round.

'Quick,' I shouted.

'Down, Tyke,' he said sulkily to his dog, that was already growling and
jumping at my trousers. 'What d' ye want, damn ye?' he inquired surlily.

'I wanted to find out about the dog that frightened my aunt up at the
Rectory last year and the gardener two nights ago,' I replied, feeling