"Master Ludlow, as true as us two be a-standing here, I saw the ghost's light the very night afore I got the hurt. I was working for Mr. Coney then, it was before I came into the Squire's service. Young Master Tom, he came out of the kitchen with a letter when we was at our seven-o'clock supper, and said I were to cut off to Timberdale with it and to look sharp, or the letter-box 'ud be shut. So I had to do it, sir, and I came through this here Ravine, a-whistling and a-holding my head down, though I'd rather ha' went ten mile round. When I got out of it on t'other side, on top of the zigzag, I chanced to look back over the stile, and there I see the light. It were opposite then, on _this_ side, sir, and moving about in the same see-saw way it be now, for I stood and watched it." "I wonder you plucked up the courage to stand and watch it, Luke?" "I were took aback, sir, all in a maze like: and then I started off full pelt, as quick as my heels 'ud carry me. That was the very blessed night afore I got the hurt. When the doctors was a-talking round me at the infirmary, and I think they was arguing whether or not my leg must come off, I telled 'em that I was afeared it wouldn't much matter neither way, for I'd seen the ghost's light the past night and knowed my fate. One of them, a young man he was, burst out laughing above my face as I lay, and t'other next him, a grave gentleman with white hair, turned round and hushed at him. Master Ludlow, it's all gospel true." "But you got well, Luke." "But I didn't think to," argued Luke. "And I see the light." As he turned his face again, the old church clock at Timberdale struck twelve. It seemed to come booming over the Ravine with quite a warning sound, and Luke gave himself a shake. As for me, I could only wish one thing--that Hugh was found. Tod came up the zigzag path, a lantern in his hand; I whistled to let him know I was near. He had been to look in the unused little shed-place nearly at the other end of the Ravine; not for Hugh, but for the man, Alfred Arne. Tod came up to us, and his face, as the lantern flashed upon it, was whiter and graver than that of Luke Mackintosh. "Did you see that, sir?" asked Luke. "See what?" cried Tod, turning sharply. He thought it might be some trace of Hugh. "That there ghost light, sir. It's showing itself to-night." Angry, perplexed, nearly out of his mind with remorse and fear, Tod gave Luke a word of a sort, ordering him to be silent for an idiot, and put the lantern down. He then saw the moving light, and let his eyes rest on it in momentary curiosity. "It's the ghost light, sir," repeated Luke, for the man seemed as if he and all other interests were lost in that. "The deuce take the ghost's light, and you with it," said Tod passionately. "Is this a time to be staring at ghosts' lights? Get you into Timberdale, Mackintosh, and see whether the police have news of the child."