Parslewe came back, leaving the two old men talking together, and I noticed that they stared after his retreating figure with vast interest. But instead of getting into the carriage again, he motioned to us, in his usual imperious fashion, to get out. Then he turned to the coachman.
"Isn't there an inn along the road there, near the village?" he asked. "Just so; then you go and put up your horses at it, and wait there till I send for you. We'll do the rest on foot," he went on, turning to us. "There's a path through the woods a little farther on."
He led us up the road for another hundred yards, then turned into a bridle-track that wound through a mass of venerable old trees for a good half-mile. We made slow progress, for Madrasia insisted on gathering a bunch of primroses. She was putting the last finishing touches to this when Parslewe, who had got a little ahead, called to us.
"Now then, here you are!" he said. "Here's the place!"
We went on, and found him at the edge of
