remarks with two or three groups of
tramps also London bound.

They were given temporary lodgings in a loft over a stable, by the
farmer for whom they worked, and this stable was situated in a court at
the end of the village street, with gates that stood open all day,
since the yard was overlooked by the windows of the farmer's
living-house--and, besides, there was really nothing to steal.

They had finished their work in the fields (I think it had to do with
the sheep and mangel-wurzels, or something of the kind); they had
returned to their lodgings, received their pay, packed up their
belongings, and had already reached the further end of the village on
their way to London, when Frank discovered that he had left a pair of
socks behind. This would never do: socks cost money, and their absence
meant sore feet and weariness; so he told the Major and Gertie to walk
on slowly while he went back. He would catch them up, he said, before
they had gone half a mile. He hid his bundle under a hedge--every pound
of weight made a difference at the end of a day's work--and set off.

It was just at that moment between day and night--between four and five
o'clock--as he came back into the yard. He went straight through the
open gates, glancing about, to explain matters to the farmer if
necessary, but, not seeing him, went up the rickety stairs, groped his
way across to the window, took down his socks from the nail an which he
had hung them last night, and came down again.

As he came into the yard, he thought he heard something stirring within
the open door of the stable on his right, and thinking it to be the
farmer, and that an explanation would be advisable, looked in.

At first he saw nothing, though he could hear a horse moving about in
the loose-box in the corner. Then he saw a light shine beneath the crack
of the second door, beside the loose-box, that led into the farm-yard
proper; and the next instant the door opened, a man came in with a
lantern obviously just lighted, as the flame was not yet burned up, and
stopped with a half-frightened look on seeing Frank. But he said
nothing.

Frank himself was just on the point of giving an explanation when he,
too, stopped dead and stared. It seemed to him that he had been here
before, under exactly the same circumstances; he tried to remember what
happened next, but he could not....

For this was what he saw as the flame burned up more brightly.

The man who held the lante