He reached in a short time a little rise of ground below which stretched
a darkly wooded hollow, and in the midst the trees gave back from a
small house, a two-storied affair, with not a light showing. He wished
to announce himself and his name at this place under the pretence of
asking harbourage for the brief remainder of the night. The news of what
he had done at Drew's place could not have travelled before him to
Wood's house; but the next day it would be sure to come, and Wood could
say that he had seen Bard--alone--the previous night. It would be a
sufficient shield for the name of Sally Fortune in that incurious
region.
So he banged loudly at the door.
Eventually a light showed in an upper window and a voice cried: "Who's
there?"
"Anthony Bard."
"Who the devil is Anthony Bard?"
"Lost in the hills. Can you give me a place to sleep for the rest of the
night? I'm about done up."
"Wait a minute."
Voices stirred in the upper part of the house; the lantern disappeared;
steps sounded, descending the stairs, and then the door was unbarred and
held a cautious inch ajar.
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