During the first part of my walk, and whilst I remained in the
neighborhood of Upper Crossleys, I met never a wayfarer, and memories
of the green eyes followed me step by step so that I was often tempted
to look back over my shoulder by the idea that I should detect, as I
had detected once before, the presence of some follower. I resented
this impulse, however. I felt that my imagination was adding horrors
to those which already actually existed, so that I should presently
find myself unable to distinguish the real from the imaginary.
At the end of half an hour's steady tramping I saw before me a place
where a wood dipped down to the wayside so that its trees cast a broad
shadow across the path. I knew that the entrance to the farm lay just
beyond; and, pressing on past the trees, I saw many outbuildings
having none of that deserted appearance which characterized the
neighboring homesteads of Upper Crossleys. Twenty yards beyond the
farm itself appeared in view.
There was some sign of activity about the yard, and, walking briskly
forward, I presently found myself looking into a stone-paved place
containing numbers of milk-cans. Here a woman was engaged in sweeping
the floor, and:
"I have called to see Mr. Edward Hines," I said. "Can you tell me
where I shall find him?"
The woman stared at me in a strange and almost stupefied manner.
"Is he a friend of yours?" she inquired.
"He is not exactly a friend of mine," I continued; "but I have very
particular business with him.
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