"Got to, ma'am.If it was just a natural horror beyond the reach of prayer, it would have knocked his reverence out long before now, like other people.It settled the police officer in under an hour, and Mr.May's been up against it for three - nearly four hours, so far.He'll bolt it yet, I shou1dn't wonder, like a ferret bolts a rat.""You really feel more hopeful?"
"Yes, I do, ma'am; and if he can fire the creature and signal 'All's clear' for Chadlands, it will calm everybody and be a proper feather in his cap, and he did ought to be made a bishop, at the least.Not that Scotland Yard men will believe a word of it to-morrow, all the same.Ghosts are bang out of their line, and I never met even a common constable that believed in 'em, except Bob Parrett, and he had bats in the belfry, poor chap.No; they'll reckon it's somebody in the house, I expect, who wanted to kill t' others, but ain't got no quarrel with Mr.May.And you'd be wise to get back to bed, ma'am, and try to sleep, else you'll catch a cold.I'll look round again in an hour or to, if I don't go to sleep my self."They parted, while the storm still ran high, and through the empty corridor, when it was lulled, a voice rolled steadily on from the Grey Boom.
When it suddenly ceased, an hour before dawn, the storm had already begun to sink, and through a rack of flying and breaking cloud the"Hunter" wheeled westerly to his setting.