‘Perfectly,’ assented Richard. ‘On the whole,’ said Juana, ‘I am quite prepared to see my--father.’ The door of the drawing-room burst open, and Bridget’s head appeared. ‘Miss Teresa, there’s someone in the sheds,’ she cried. ‘I heard a noise like that of the Banshee of MacGillicuddy. Eh! Miss Juana, and is it yesilf I see?’ At sight of the circus-girl Bridget wept, but she did not leave the vicinity of the door. ‘Turn out every light,’ said Richard. No sooner had he said the word than he leapt up and extinguished the lamp which hung from the middle of the ceiling. ‘Run, Mrs. Bridget,’ he commanded, ‘and put out the others.’ Bridget departed. The other three went out into the porch, and at Richard’s suggestion Juana led her mare away behind the house. They were obliged to leave the car where it stood, since it was impossible to move it without noise. The house was now in darkness. Bridget had joined the rest in the porch. They stood braced, tense, silent, waiting--waiting for they knew not what. Presently was heard the ‘birr’ of the electric motor-car from the direction of the outbuildings, and then the vehicle flashed down the boreen at fifteen or twenty miles an hour. Owing partly to the darkness and partly to the height of the glazed ‘cab’ of the machine, a contrivance designed by Mr. Craig himself, the driver of the car could not be recognised, but both Richard and Teresa thought that it could be no other than Raphael Craig, and, further, that he was alone. Just as the car passed Juana’s mare whinnied, and there was an answering whinny from the orchard field where, as it afterwards appeared, Mr. Craig’s two mares had been turned out to grass. But the car showed no inclination to halt. ‘Sure, the master will be after taking it away!’ Bridget exclaimed. ‘Taking what away, Bridget?’ Juana asked. ‘Micky’s cor----’ ‘Silence, Bridget, you foolish creature!’ Teresa stopped her. ‘If you can’t talk sense you must go and sit in the kitchen alone.’ This threat resulted in a very complete silence on the part of Bridget. The car turned southwards down Watling Street. ‘He is going to the chalk-pit,’ said Richard quietly. ‘Perhaps we had better follow discreetly and see what happens,’ said Teresa. ‘I was about to suggest that,’ said Richard; ‘but we ought not all to go.’ ‘And why not, Mr. Redgrave?’ Bridget demanded, in alarm at the prospect of being left. ‘Because--well, because we had better not,’ said Richard. ‘Four will make too heavy a load for this car.’ ‘Juana,’ said Teresa, ‘you will stay here with Bridget. Mr. Redgrave and myself will reconnoitre, find out what we can, and return to you with as little delay as possible.’ ‘Very well,’ said Juana, while old Bridget sighed a sad resignation.