"Now then--move yourself! Don't pretend you're dead--I know better." Possibly by way of exhibiting her superior knowledge, she shook him by the shoulder. He groaned; she chose to interpret the sound as having a favourable significance. "He's not dead; he's all right. Broken a bone, or put his shoulder out, or something. He won't hurt if we leave him here; we could do nothing for him if we wanted to. Let's see what's happened to the cart." It was not difficult to do that; the explanation of what had occurred was almost painfully simple. The horse, influenced by such eccentric guidance, had conducted the vehicle into a ditch. The jolt of the sudden descent had loosened one of the wheels; it lay in one direction, the cart in another. The question as to whether they were or were not to drive in it up to the house was finally settled. The horse, seemingly none the worse for his little experience, making no attempt to get up, reclined at his ease between the shafts, apparently under the not erroneous impression that he was as comfortable there as anywhere else. Mrs. Lamb recognised that, so far as any more riding was concerned, the fates were against her. "We shall have to walk," she observed. "It's not so very far from here, along the avenue. Here's the gate." She went to the gate, revealing its whereabouts by the light of her lantern. Mr. Luker moving towards her, spoke in lowered tones. "Without wishing to alarm you unnecessarily, or endorsing your coachman's remarks about Mr. Cuthbert Grahrame's singular habits, I may tell you that my impression is that if he isn't walking about among the trees, somebody is." "Luker, don't talk like that! Don't be a fool." "If I weren't a fool I doubt if I should be here with you now; but, apart from that, I can only inform you that for some time I have had a suspicion that our movements were being observed by some one among the trees, who can see us better than we could see him, and who was taking a lively interest in all that was occurring." "Luker, how do you know? How could you tell?" "By the sense of sound; I wasn't so absorbed in fighting the driver. That some one, or something, has been moving among the trees, keeping pace with us as we went, I'll swear, and I don't think it was an animal." "Speak plainly; what do you mean?" "I think it possible that you and I are the objects of a conspiracy--especially you. Every step you take you are walking farther and farther into the trap which Miss Margaret Wallace has set for you." "Don't talk rubbish! Have you got that old bee in your bonnet again? I'm not afraid of Miss Margaret Wallace." "Aren't you? Then that's all right, because I fancy that her agents are about you on every side." "Her agents? What do you mean by her agents?"