He felt that new relation that he had in a way created beginning to grow between them. She drew away from Harkness ever so slightly. Then suddenly he knew that Dunbar had put his arm round her and was holding her up. She was so weary that she did not know what she was doing--but for that quiet, resolute, determined boy it must have been a moment of great triumph, the first time in their two lives that she had in any way surrendered to him or allowed him to care for her. Harkness was once more alone. They walked and walked and walked. They did not know where they were walking, but in their minds they were sure it was straight to Cranach. Suddenly, after, as it seemed, hours of silence in a dead world, Dunbar cried: "We're there. Oh, thank God! we're there. This is the rectory wall." A wall was before them and an open gate. They walked through the gate, only dimly seen, stumbled where the lawn rose from the gravel, then forward again, down on to the gravel again. The door was open. Like somnambulists they walked forward. The door closed behind them. Like somnambulists awakened they saw lights, a dim hall where flags waved. For Harkness there was something familiar--quite close to him, the chatter-chatter of a clock, like a coughing dog. Familiar? He stared. Some one was standing, looking at him and smiling. With sudden agony in his voice, as a man cries in a terrible dream, Harkness shouted: "Out, Dunbar! Back! Back! Run for your life!" But it was too late. That voice of exquisite melody greeted them: "I had no idea that of your own free will you would return. My son only a quarter of an hour ago departed in search of you. I welcome you back." PART IV: THE TOWER I With an instinctive movement both Harkness and Dunbar closed in upon Hesther. The three stood just in front of the heavy locked door facing the dim hall. On the bottom stair was Crispin Senior, and on the floor below him, one on either side, the two Japanese servants. A glittering candelabrum, hanging high up, was fully lit, but it seemed to give a very feeble illumination, as though the fog had penetrated here also. Crispin was wearing white silk pyjamas, brown leather slippers, and a dressing-gown of a rich bronze-coloured silk flowered with gold buds and leaves. His eyes were half-closed, as though the light, dim though it was, was too strong for him. His face wore a look of petulant rather childish melancholy. The two servants were statues indeed, no sign of life proceeding from them. There was, however, very little movement anywhere, the flags moving in the draught the chief. Hesther's face was white, and her breath came in little sharp pants, but she held her body rigid. Harkness after that first cry was silent, but Dunbar stepped forward shouting: