"What I want to say to Sarah Jane's a matter of a little business touching her better half," the castle-keeper explained. "So you shall, then. I'll walk out of earshot. But the night gets worse, and we'd better be on our way, if I'm to make as far as Ruddyford at all. I ought to have ridden, but I'd been on my pony all morning, and he was tired too." They departed into rough weather. The moon was rising through a scud of light thin cloud, and fine rain, swept by the wind, drove out of the west. "What will Hilary Woodrow do when he leaves my place?" asked Weekes. "Don't know no more than you," answered the other. They went to the house of Billy Long, and found that Sarah Jane had left it an hour before. "She's half-way home now, no doubt," said Prout. "Well, I'll be going, Jarratt. I'll tell her you want to see her." "And tell her unbeknownst to her husband, please. There's no harm brewed, I need not tell you that; but he's a peppery chap and his temper sometimes obscures his wits." "It does. He talks of going away now." "Going away! I hadn't heard that." Mr. Prout proceeded. Then an idea struck Jarratt. "You'm weary--see here; if we cross my orchard, behind the cottage, you'll save more than a quarter of a mile. 'Tis trespassing, so long as Woodrow rents the place, but he'll pardon the owner; anyway, he'll pardon you." "Anything to save a few yards. I'd ask master for a shakedown here, but they'd be frighted out of their wits at Ruddyford if I didn't come back." "Shall I see if I can get somebody to drive you out?" "No, no; I can do it, if I go slow and steady. Us'll walk through the orchard certainly." "Don't speak near the back-side of the house, then, else he'll hear you, and think 'tis people stealing the apples." They went silently through the orchard, but the wind concealed lesser sounds and panted loudly overhead. Then they passed under a lighted window that faced upon their way. The blind was drawn down, but a bright beam shot along one side. On the impulse of the moment Weekes peeped in. "Reading one of his eternal books, I'll wager," he whispered. Then every muscle tightened. He glared and grinned out of the darkness into the light, and fell back with a great gasp. His mind worked quickly. Prout had plodded on, and Weekes now hastened after him. "Come back, come back," he said. "'Tis worth a few steps. 'Twill do your heart good--quick!" The other found himself dragged to the window before he knew what Jarratt meant. His face was thrust to the aperture at the blind edge. He could not choose but see. The whole incident occupied but a second, and John Prout fell back and nearly dropped upon the grass. His stick left his fingers: both his hands went up over his face. "Ban't true--ban't true!" he groaned. Jarratt Weekes picked up his stick and hastened the old man away. "True as hell-fire," he said. "And never fool yourself to think you haven't seen it; for you have." He laughed.