Sir Austin decided to continue quiescent.

The valley still lay black beneath the large autumnal stars, and the exclamations of the boys were becoming fevered and impatient.  By-and-by one insisted that he had seen a twinkle.  The direction he gave was out of their anticipations.  Again the twinkle was announced.  Both boys started to their feet.  It was a twinkle in the right direction now.

“He’s done it!” cried Richard, in great heat.  “Now you may say old Blaize’ll soon be old Blazes, Rip.  I hope he’s asleep.”

“I’m sure he’s snoring!—­Look there!  He’s alight fast enough.  He’s dry.  He’ll burn.—­I say,” Ripton re-assumed the serious intonation, “do you think they’ll ever suspect us?”

“What if they do?  We must brunt it.”

“Of course we will.  But, I say!  I wish you hadn’t given them the scent, though.  I like to look innocent.  I can’t when I know people suspect me.  Lord! look there!  Isn’t it just beginning to flare up!”

The farmer’s grounds were indeed gradually standing out in sombre shadows.

“I’ll fetch my telescope,” said Richard.  Ripton, somehow not liking to be left alone, caught hold of him.

“No; don’t go and lose the best of it.  Here, I’ll throw open the window, and we can see.”

The window was flung open, and the boys instantly stretched half their bodies out of it; Ripton appearing to devour the rising flames with his mouth:  Richard with his eyes.

Opaque and statuesque stood the figure of the baronet behind them.  The wind was low.  Dense masses of smoke hung amid the darting snakes of fire, and a red malign light was on the neighbouring leafage.  No figures could be seen.  Apparently the flames had nothing to contend against, for they were making terrible strides into the darkness.

“Oh!” shouted Richard, overcome by excitement, “if I had my telescope!  We must have it!  Let me go and fetch it!  I Will!”

The boys struggled together, and Sir Austin stepped back.  As he did so, a cry was heard in the passage.  He hurried out, closed the chamber, and came upon little Clare lying senseless along the door.

CHAPTER V

In the morning that followed this night, great gossip was interchanged between Raynham and Lobourne.  The village told how Farmer Blaize, of Belthorpe Farm, had his Pick feloniously set fire to; his stables had caught fire, himself had been all but roasted alive in the attempt to rescue his cattle, of which numbers had perished in the flames.  Raynham counterbalanced arson with an authentic ghost seen by Miss Clare in the left wing of the Abbey—­the ghost of a lady, dressed in deep mourning, a scar on her forehead and a bloody handkerchief at her breast, frightful to behold! and no wonder the child was frightened out of her wits, and lay in a desperate state awaiting the arrival of the London doctors.  It was added that the servants had all threatened to leave in a body, and that Sir Austin to appease them had promised to pull down the entire left wing, like a gentleman; for no decent creature, said Lobourne, could consent to live in a haunted house.