endofourjourney.Imustrequestyoutowalkontiptoeandnottotalkaboveawhisper.”
Wemovedcautiouslyalongthetrackasifwewereboundforthehouse,butHolmeshalteduswhenwewereabouttwohundredyardsfromit.
“Thiswilldo,”saidhe.“Theserocksupontherightmakeanadmirablescreen.”
“Wearetowaithere?”
“Yes,weshallmakeourlittleambushhere.Getintothishollow,Lestrade.Youhavebeeninsidethehouse,haveyounot,Watson?Canyoutellthepositionoftherooms?Whatarethoselatticedwindowsatthisend?”
“Ithinktheyarethekitchenwindows.”
“Andtheonebeyond,whichshinessobrightly?”
“Thatiscertainlythedining-room.”
“Theblindsareup.Youknowthelieofthelandbest.Creepforwardquietlyandseewhattheyaredoing—butforheaven’ssakedon’tletthemknowthattheyarewatched!”
Itiptoeddownthepathandstoopedbehindthelowwallwhichsurroundedthestuntedorchard.CreepinginitsshadowIreachedapointwhenceIcouldlookstraightthroughtheuncurtainedwindow.
Therewereonlytwomenintheroom,SirHenryandStapleton.Theysatwiththeirprofilestowardsmeoneithersideoftheroundtable.Bothofthemweresmokingcigars,andcoffeeandwinewereinfrontofthem.Stapletonwastalkingwithanimation,butthebaronetlookedpaleanddistrait.Perhapsthethoughtofthatlonelywalkacrosstheill-omenedmoorwasweighingheavilyuponhismind.
AsIwatchedthemStapletonroseandlefttheroom,whileSirHenryfilledhisglassagainandleanedbackinhischair,puffingathiscigar.Iheardthecreakofadoorandthecrispsoundofbootsupongravel.ThestepspassedalongthepathontheothersideofthewallunderwhichIcrouched.Lookingover,Isawthenaturalistpauseatthedoorofanout-houseinthecorneroftheorchard.Akeyturnedinalock,andashepassedintherewasacuriousscufflingnoisefromwithin.Hewasonlyaminuteorsoinside,andthenIheardthekeyturnoncemoreandhepassedmeandreenteredthehouse.Isawhimrejoinhisguest,andIcreptquietlybacktowheremycompanionswerewaitingtotellthemwhatIhadseen.
“Yousay,Watson,thatth