The landlord, and one or two of the Corinthians from the bar-parlour, had followed us to the back of the house. Some one had opened the side door, and we found ourselves in the kitchen garden, where, clustering upon the gravel path, we were able to hold the lamp over the soft, newly turned earth which lay between us and the window. “That’s his footmark!” said Belcher. “He wore his running boots this evening, and you can see the nails. But what’s this? Some one else has been here.” “A woman!” I cried. “By Heaven, you’re right, nephew,” said my uncle. Belcher gave a hearty curse. “He never had a word to say to any girl in the village. I took partic’lar notice of that. And to think of them coming in like this at the last moment!” “It’s clear as possible, Tregellis,” said the Hon. Berkeley Craven, who was one of the company from the bar-parlour. “Whoever it was came outside the window and tapped. You see here, and here, the small feet have their toes to the house, while the others are all leading away. She came to summon him, and he followed her.” “That is perfectly certain,” said my uncle. “There’s not a moment to be lost. We must divide and search in different directions, unless we can get some clue as to where they have gone.” “There’s only the one path out of the garden,” cried the landlord, leading the way. “It opens out into this back lane, which leads up to the stables. The other end of the lane goes out into the side road.” The bright yellow glare from a stable lantern cut a ring suddenly from the darkness, and an ostler came lounging out of the yard. “Who’s that?” cried the landlord. “It’s me, master! Bill Shields.” “How long have you been there, Bill?” “Well, master, I’ve been in an’ out of the stables this hour back. We can’t pack in another ’orse, and there’s no use tryin’. I daren’t ’ardly give them their feed, for, if they was to thicken out just ever so little—” “See here, Bill. Be careful how you answer, for a mistake may cost you your place. Have you seen any one pass down the lane?” “There was a feller in a rabbit-skin cap some time ago. ’E was loiterin’ about until I asked ’im what ’is business was, for I didn’t care about the looks of ’im, or the way that ’e was peepin’ in at the windows. I turned the stable lantern on to ’im, but ’e ducked ’is face, an’ I could only swear to ’is red ’ead.” I cast a quick glance at my uncle, and I saw that the shadow had deepened upon his face. “What became of him?” he asked. “’E slouched away, sir, an’ I saw the last of ’im.” “You’ve seen no one else? You didn’t, for example, see a woman and a man pass down the lane together?” “No, sir.” “Or hear anything unusual?” “Why, now that you mention it, sir, I did ’ear somethin’; but on a night like this, when all these London blades are in the village—” “What was it, then?” cried my uncle, impatiently.