She made no comment.

"No, I have been very fortunate," he went on. "Few men of my years could conscientiously boast of health like mine. I enjoy my food, I get my sleep all right in bed, I have few of the usual aches and pains. No-one asks me if it will rain tomorrow, which I always consider the ultimate insult to a man's white hairs. True I'm a bit deaf, naturally. That can't be helped. No, I've a deal to be thankful for. And if they would only trouble to pronounce, or even sound, their consonants, I'd hear as well as the next man. Too much, even, on occasion," he added, half remembering the girls below. There was a pause.

"Your grandmother always did say there could be no deaf people if those who condescended to open their mouths away from a plate would bother to be distinct."

She received this in silence. He started on another tack, as he painfully began to negotiate steps down to the third Terrace. "Have you seen Alice?" he asked. She did not answer.

"I said, had you run across my cat?" he insisted.

"No, Gapa. Why?"

"Because I'm worried about the animal, of course," he explained. "I would not put it altogether past those two dangerous fanatics to do away with Alice. You know how foully underhand they are. A pet could be fair game. Damn this moonlight. I can't see where to put my feet."

How frightfully unreasonable he is, she thought. Just when it was light as day. Quite the sort of thing Seb wouldn't ever believe, if he still resented her seeing Gapa home, when she got back. Oh Seb!

"Daisy still out. No-one can tell what's become of me Ted. What a day. Too long by half."

"But they've been off before," she protested. "I mean, there's nothing new. . this isn't the first time, Gapa, after all, on their own, is it?"

"I wouldn't know about that, of course," he said, tart.

"You'll find them when you get back."

"You surely do not propose to leave me walk through the woods all by myself?" he cried out. Indeed, these were now much nearer.

"Why Gapa dear, how could you think? Of course not."

"Work one's fingers to the bone and fat thanks in return," he grumbled.

She said not a word.

"Pay no attention, Liz," he said, at last.

"I got hot up there. I'm glad of a breather," she lied, to meet him halfway.

"The ludicrous female would have upset me if I hadn't kept control," he went on, suddenly remembering Miss Edge at last.

"Then you did speak? Oh, you are good." Elizabeth was dreamily enthusiastic. "And what did she. . you know. . was it, I mean did you smooth things out?"

"Smooth what out?"

"Why, everything."

"How can I tell yet?" he demanded, in an exasperated voice. "But I swallowed my pride," he muttered. "Yes, I had to do that," he said, to make all he'd done into sacrifice. Then he at last entirely recollected the proposal Edge had just made him. He gave one more short, sharp laugh. He'd nothing other than contempt for the half crazed harpy. "The trouble with drunkenness is that it will not realise the other party can be sober," he added, aloud.

This last remark did not make sense to her. She could only guess.

"What?" she asked, alarmed. "Miss Edge pretended you'd been… oh Gapa, was there more trouble, then? Because you haven't. . that's to say, there could be no question. . but this is awful." The fact was, the old man might, on occasion, get muddled drunk.

"Liz," he said sternly. "Don't be a fool."

"Then what is it?" she cried, rather wild. She looked close into his moon brown face. The forehead was corrugated.

Mr Rock knew he had gone too far. If he told her of this last, ludicrous development she was sure to repeat it to Sebastian who, not later than next day, or even the same night, would be all over the place imitating his idea of his Principal's idiom while she proposed marriage. And, in any case, the suggestion, from every point of view except Edge's own, the old man considered, was tantamount to an insult offered by the woman. Mr Rock next experienced a wave of panic. He would have liked to get rid of his granddaughter, in case, somehow, she learned. Then he recollected the black ride that was almost on them. Indeed, raising eyes from a treacherous path, he saw the beeches like frozen milk, and frozen swimming-bath blue water, already motionless in a cascade, soundless from a height, not sixty yards in front.

"Peace, child," he said.

"Oh, what did you mean before?"

"You misunderstood. No more of this."

"Then, had the new bother anything, at least, to do with Seb?"

"Liz, of course not."

"You must remember I haven't been well," she subsided. "I get so terribly worried, you know." He had realised that before, but wondered how dark the ride would be which was beginning to gape at him, narrow and black.

The cry came a third time, directly on them, from somewhere amongst the trees. But now they had come so far that even though he waited he could barely catch the echo's answer, the house singing back in a whisper, and he just heard it thrice; "Mar. . ee,"

"Mareee,""… eee."

"You must have heard," the old man accused his granddaughter, as though she had missed the call three times.

"Oh don't pay attention, dear, I told you. That's only their Club they think is so secret, and everybody knows. They go and whoop round the place at night."

"I've never noticed."

"Well, you see, perhaps you wouldn't."

"I may be a trifle hard of hearing but I trust I could never miss a shout such as we've just heard."

She left his remark alone.

"No Liz, they're out to comb the undergrowth for poor Mary."

"They might have, you know, this morning. I expect you didn't listen but it was just after you set off. I mean, they were round the cottage, and you had gone by that time. Still, they aren't looking now, Gapa, you can be sure."

"Is there any news, then?"

"News? Not that I've learnt. Don't you remember I told you? They're simply fiends."

The old man and his granddaughter had come to the beginning of a ride. Every twenty yards or so there was a separate marsh of moonlight, but the way looked lonely to him.

"Wait a moment for me to light my torch," he ordered, as though he had to strike a match for this. He fumbled.

When he had the thing on, he shone around him. Immediately there came a string of startled grunts. He shuddered, then waved the small megaphone of light here and there through a black shadow of trees till he lit on his pig. Daisy was caught looking full in their direction, until she turned, began to make off", squealing. There was somewhat round her neck. He switched the light away and called his pet. She seemed to have halted. He slowly brought round the long cone of daylight, very quiet in great, open stealth, so as not to alarm her. He picked out a white leg, held it quivering while Daisy's tail flickered to and fro, and, once uncovered again, the pig began to grunt. As, with gentle patience, he gradually turned his wrist to bring his dunce's cap of moonlight on all of Daisy, she grunted crescendo, but held firm. Till he saw a slipper in white satin had been tied round her white neck.

"They'll have been torturing her," he cried in the swill man's tones at once, upon which the animal squealed twice, then stayed dumb. He switched his light out. There was utter silence.