ed and whispered over their heads, and against one of
the shuttered windows near the ground some climbing plant, torn loose by
the wind, tapped incessantly, as if calling to the ghosts within.
Charles glanced ever and anon at the sky. It showed no trace of
clearing--as yet. He was getting cramped with standing. He wished he had
gone on to the stables. His anxiety for Raymond was sharpened by this
long inaction. He seemed to have been standing for ages. What were the
others doing? Not a sound reached him between the lengthening pauses of
the wind. His companion stood drawn up motionless beside him; and so
they waited, straining eye and ear into the darkness, conscious that
others were waiting and listening also.

_At last_ in the distance came a faint sound of wheels. Charles and
Brooks instinctively drew a long breath; and Charles for the first time
believed the alarm of poachers had not been a false one after all. It
was the faintest possible sound of wheels. It would hardly have been
heard at all but for some newly broken stones over which it passed.
Then, without coming nearer, it stopped.

Charles listened intently. The wind had dropped down dead at last, and
in the stillness he felt as if he could have heard a mouse stir miles
away. But all was quiet. There was no sound but the tremulous whisper of
the ivy. The spray near the window had ceased its tapping against the
shutter, and was listening too. Slowly the moon came out, and looked on.

And then suddenly, from the direction of the stables, came a roar of
men's voices, a sound of bursting and crashing through the under-wood, a
thundering of heavy feet, followed by a whirring of frightened birds
into the air. Brooks leaned forward breathing hard, and tightening his
newly moistened grip on his heavy knotted stick.

Another moment and a man's figure darted across the open, followed by a
chorus of shouts, and Charles's heart turned sick within him. It was
Raymond.

"Cut him off at the gate, Charles," roared Ralph from behind; "down to
the left."

There was not a second for reflection. As Brooks rushed headlong
forward, Charles hurriedly interposed his stick between his legs, and
leaving him to flounder, started off in pursuit.

"Down to your left," cried a chorus of voices from behind, as he shot
out of the shadow of the house; for Charles was some way ahead of the
rest owing to his position.

He could hear Raymond crashing in front; then he saw him again fo