Anne now waited in her corner in breathless suspense for the proceedings of the other man.  In about half-a-minute she heard him descend from the copper, and then the square opening of the doorway showed the outline of this other watcher passing through it likewise.  The form was that of a broad-shouldered man enveloped in a long coat.  He vanished after the steward.

The woman vented a sigh of relief, and moved forward to follow.  Simultaneously, she discovered that the watcher whose foot she had touched was, in his turn, watched and followed also.

It was by one of her own sex.  Anne Seaway shrank backward again.  The unknown woman came forward from the further side of the yard, and pondered awhile in hesitation.  Tall, dark, and closely wrapped, she stood up from the earth like a cypress.  She moved, crossed the yard without producing the slightest disturbance by her footsteps, and went in the direction the others had taken.

Anne waited yet another minute—­then in her turn noiselessly followed the last woman.

But so impressed was she with the sensation of people in hiding, that in coming out of the yard she turned her head to see if any person were following her, in the same way.  Nobody was visible, but she discerned, standing behind the angle of the stable, Manston’s horse and gig, ready harnessed.

He did intend to fly after all, then, she thought.  He must have placed the horse in readiness, in the interval between his leaving the house and her exit by the window.  However, there was not time to weigh this branch of the night’s events.  She turned about again, and continued on the trail of the other three.

6.  FROM MIDNIGHT TO HALF-PAST ONE A.M.

Intentness pervaded everything; Night herself seemed to have become a watcher.

The four persons proceeded across the glade, and into the park plantation, at equi-distances of about seventy yards.  Here the ground, completely overhung by the foliage, was coated with a thick moss which was as soft as velvet beneath their feet.  The first watcher, that is, the man walking immediately behind Manston, now fell back, when Manston’s housekeeper, knowing the ground pretty well, dived circuitously among the trees and got directly behind the steward, who, encumbered with his load, had proceeded but slowly.  The other woman seemed now to be about opposite to Anne, or a little in advance, but on Manston’s other hand.

He reached a pit, midway between the waterfall and the engine-house.  There he stopped, wiped his face, and listened.

Into this pit had drifted uncounted generations of withered leaves, half filling it.  Oak, beech, and chestnut, rotten and brown alike, mingled themselves in one fibrous mass.  Manston descended into the midst of them, placed his sack on the ground, and raking the leaves aside into a large heap, began digging.  Anne softly drew nearer, crept into a bush, and turning her head to survey the rest, missed the man who had dropped behind, and whom we have called the first watcher.  Concluding that he, too, had hidden himself, she turned her attention to the second watcher, the other woman, who had meanwhile advanced near to where Anne lay in hiding, and now seated herself behind a tree, still closer to the steward than was Anne Seaway.