h the stable-yard on to the
field-path to East Maskells. All the other gates are kept barred; and
indeed I scarcely know where the keys are."

"I am bewildered," said Mary.

"Shall we go round?" he asked.

"To-morrow," said Mary; "I am tired to-night, and so is this poor child.
Come, we will go to bed."

Anthony soon went too. Both he and Isabel were tired with the journey and
the strain of anxiety, and it was a keen joy to him to be back again in
his own dear room, with the tapestry of St. Thomas of Aquin and St. Clare
opposite the bed, and the wide curtained bow-window which looked out on
the little walled garden.

* * * *

Mr. Buxton was left alone in the great hall below with the two tapers
burning, and the starlight with all the suffused glow of a summer night
making the arms glimmer in the tall windows that looked south. Lower, the
windows were open, and the mellow scents of the June roses, and of the
sweet-satyrian and lavender poured in; the night was very still, but the
faintest breath came from time to time across the meadows and rustled in
the stiff leaves with the noise of a stealthy movement.

"I will look round," said Mr. Buxton to himself.

He stepped out immediately into the garden by the hall door, and turned
to the east, passing along the lighted windows. His step sounded on the
tiles, and a face looked out swiftly from Isabel's room overhead; but his
figure was plain in the light from the windows as he came out round the
corner; and the face drew back. He crossed the east end of the house, and
went through a little door into the stable-yard, locking it after him. In
the kennels in the corner came a movement, and a Danish hound came out
silently into the cage before her house, and stood up, like a slender
grey ghost, paws high up in the bars, and whimpered softly to her lord.
He quieted her, and went to the door in the yard that opened on to the
field-path to East Maskells, unbarred it and stepped through. There was a
dry ditch on his left, where nettles quivered in the stirring air; and a
heavy clump of bushes rose beyond, dark and impenetrable. Mr. Buxton
stared straight at these a moment or two, and then out towards East
Maskells. There lay his own meadows, and the cattle and horses secure and
sleeping. Then he stepped back again; barred the door and walked up
through the stable-yard into the front court. There the great iron gates
rose before h