But as Undershaw spoke there flashed out a distant
light on the rising ground beyond the streak of road. Above it, huddled
shapes of mountains, dying fast into the darkness. They all knew it for a
light in Green Cottage; the same that Tatham had watched from the Duddon
moorland on the evening of the murder. They turned and walked on silently
toward the lower gate of Duddon.
"What's he going to do about the money?" said Undershaw abruptly.
Boden turned upon him, almost with rage.
"For heaven's sake, give him time!--it's positively indecent to rush a
man who's gone through what that man's gone through!"
Faversham pursued his way toward the swelling upland which looks south
over St. John's Vale, and north toward Skiddaw. He went, led by a
passionate impulse, sternly restrained till this moment. Led also by the
vision of her face as it had been lifted to him beside the grave of
Melrose. Since then he had never seen her. But that Boden had written to
her that morning, early, after the recovery of Brand's body, he knew.
The moon shone suddenly behind him, across the waste of Flitterdale, and
the lower meadows of St. John's Vale. It struck upon the low white house
amid its trees.
"Is Miss Penfold at home?"
The maid recognized him at once, and in her agitation almost lost her
head. As she led him in, a little figure in a white cap with streamers
fluttered across the hall.
"_Oh_, Mr. Faversham!" said a soft, breathless voice.
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