“And bring a lantern,” I said; “this light does not light you.”

In five minutes we were there again; and the hand was vivid as ever.

“Do you see it now?” whispered the butler, anxiously.

“Yes,” I said; “it is moving.”

“Go on,” he said; “I will keep close behind you.”

It was pitch dark, and, except for the gleaming hand, and the erratic circles of light cast by the lantern, we could see nothing.  The hand gradually moved faster, increasing to a good walking pace, passing over the garden-gate and leading us on till I completely lost knowledge of our position; but still we went steadily forward.  At last we got into a road, and went along by a wall; and, after a few steps, the hand, which was before me, moved sharply aside.

“Robert,” I said, “it has gone over a gate—­we must go too!  Where are we?”

He answered, in a tone of the deepest horror—­

“Miss Dorothy! for the Lord’s sake, think what you are doing, and let us turn back while we can!  You’ve had sore affliction; but it’s an awful thing to bring an innocent man to trouble.”

“The innocent man is in trouble!” I said, passionately.  “Is it nothing that he should die, if truth could save him?  You may go back if you like; but I shall go on.  Tell me, whose place is this?”

“Never mind, my dear young lady,” he said, soothingly.  “Go on, and the Lord be with you!  But be careful.  You’re sure you see it now?”

“Certain,” I said.  “It is moving.  Come on.”

We went forward, and I heard a click behind me.

“What is that?” I said.

“Hush!” he whispered; “make no noise!  It was my pistol.  Go gently, my dear young lady.  It is a farmyard, and you may stumble.”

“It has stopped over a building!” I whispered.

“Not the house!” he returned, hoarsely.

“I am going on,” I said.  “Here we are.  What is it?  Whose is it?”

He came close to me, and whispered solemnly—­

“Miss Dorothy! be brave, and make no noise!  We are in Farmer Parker’s yard; and this is a barn.”

Then the terror came over me.

“Let us turn back,” I said.  “You are right.  One may bear one’s own troubles, but not drag in other people.  Take me home!”

But Robert would not take me home; and my courage came back, and I held the lantern whilst he unfastened the door.  Then the ghastly hand passed into the barn, and we followed it.

“It has stopped in the far corner,” I said.  “There seems to be wood or something.”

“It’s bundles of wood,” he whispered.  “I know the place.  Sit down, and tell me if it moves.”

I sat down, and waited long and wearily, while he moved heavy bundles of firewood, pausing now and then to ask, “Is it here still?” At last he asked no more; and in a quarter of an hour he only spoke once:  then it was to say—­

“This plank has been moved.”