"It's my way, and was the way of my fathers before me." "In Africa, but not in England." "Pooh!" was all that Durgo answered, and the two trudged along, bowing their heads against the now furiously driving wind. Shortly they came to Mrs. Tunks' hut, and the door was opened by the old woman herself. "I felt that you were coming, master," she said, nodding. "Enter." "No," said Durgo, pausing on the threshold of the ill-smelling room. "I have to go back to my post and watch for the coming of the Vands. Mr. Lister will remain here. Has your grandson gone?" "No, lovey--I mean master," said Granny coaxingly. "He's ever so much better for the medicine you gave him, and is quite his own self. But I've sent the gel to get a boat to take him to the caravan. They've moved it down the channel to a meadow near the high road. The gel will bring the boat up here in an hour or so, and take Luke back with her; then he'll go on the merry road with her and my sister." "You should have sent Luke away before," said Durgo frowning, "for he knew all about the murder, and has blackmailed the Vands. Inglis and his constables will be on the opposite bank to this place soon, and they may arrest him. I shan't say more than I can help, but get him away as soon as you can." "Yes, master; yes, deary; yes, lovey!" croaked the old woman; and Durgo, with a significant glance at her and a nod to Cyril, turned away into the gloom. "Won't you come in, lovey?" asked Mrs. Tunks coaxingly. "No," said Cyril, who did not relish the malodorous hut; "I'll stay here and watch for the signal." "What signal?" demanded the witch wife. "Never mind. Go in!" commanded Lister, and settled himself under the eaves of the hut to keep guard. Granny scowled at him as she obeyed. She did not mind cringing to Durgo, who was her master in the black art, but she objected to Cyril ordering her about. Had Granny really possessed the powers she laid claim to she would have blighted his fresh youth on the spot. As it was, she simply muttered a curse on what she regarded as his impertinence, and went indoors. Cyril lighted his pipe and kept his eyes on the distant mass of the Manor-house, which was revealed blackly when the lightning flashed. Across the ocean of grain tore the furious wind, making it rock like an unquiet sea. Flash after flash darted across the livid sky, and every now and then came the sudden boom of the thunder. Hour upon hour passed until the watcher almost lost count of time. Within the cottage all was quiet, although at intervals he could hear the querulous voice of Mrs. Tunks shrilly scolding the Romany girl. Lister began to grow impatient, as he dreaded lest Bella should have fallen into the clutches of the Vands, who would certainly show her no mercy. It was in his mind to leave his post and see for himself what had occurred. Suddenly a long clear beam smote through the darkness of the night, and he sprang to his feet.