d it have almost the right to be
considered holy ground."
"Thank you, sir," said Adam earnestly, and was silent. Sir Nathaniel
understood.
After lunch that day, Adam casually asked Sir Nathaniel to come for a
walk with him. The keen-witted old diplomatist guessed that there must
be some motive behind the suggestion, and he at once agreed.
As soon as they were free from observation, Adam began.
"I am afraid, sir, that there is more going on in this neighbourhood than
most people imagine. I was out this morning, and on the edge of the
small wood, I came upon the body of a child by the roadside. At first, I
thought she was dead, and while examining her, I noticed on her neck some
marks that looked like those of teeth."
"Some wild dog, perhaps?" put in Sir Nathaniel.
"Possibly, sir, though I think not--but listen to the rest of my news. I
glanced around, and to my surprise, I noticed something white moving
among the trees. I placed the child down carefully, and followed, but I
could not find any further traces. So I returned to the child and
resumed my examination, and, to my delight, I discovered that she was
still alive. I chafed her hands and gradually she revived, but to my
disappointment she remembered nothing--except that something had crept up
quietly from behind, and had gripped her round the throat. Then,
apparently, she fainted."
"Gripped her round the throat! Then it cannot have been a dog."
"No, sir, that is my difficulty, and explains why I brought you out here,
where we cannot possibly be overheard. You have noticed, of course, the
peculiar sinuous way in which Lady Arabella moves--well, I feel certain
that the white thing that I saw in the wood was the mistress of Diana's
Grove!"
"Good God, boy, be careful what you say."
"Yes, sir, I fully realise the gravity of my accusation, but I feel
convinced that the marks on the child's throat were human--and made by a
woman."
Adam's companion remained silent for some time, deep in thought.
"Adam, my boy," he said at last, "this matter appears to me to be far
more serious even than you think. It forces me to break confidence with
my old friend, your uncle--but, in order to spare him, I must do so. For
some time now, things have been happening in this district that have been
worrying him dreadfully--several people have disappeared, without leaving
the slightest trace; a dead child was found by the roadside, with no
visible or asce
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