Bit orf the track, ain't yer?"
Cleek retrieved himself at once.
"Ain't there? Well, wot if there ain't? The place wot I calls a
'aystack--an' wot Lunnoners calls a 'aystack too--is the nearest bit of
shelter wot comes your way. Manner of speakin', that's all."
"Oh! Then I reckon you means the barn about a quarter of a mile up the
road toward the village?" The barmaid smiled again.
"That's it. Good-night."
"Good night," chorused the hoarse voices.
The night outside was as black as a pocket.
"Better cut along by the fields, Dollops," whispered Cleek as they took
to their heels up the rough road. "Got to pass him. This mist will help
us. That was a near shave about the haystack. I nearly tripped us up
there. Awful creature, that woman!"
"Looks like a jelly-fish come loose," threw in Dollops with a snort.
"There's ole Borkins, sir, straight ahead. 'Ere--in through this gap in
this edge and then across the field by the side of 'im.... Weren't such a
rough night after all, was it, sir?"
Cleek sighed. One might almost have thought that he regretted the fact.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217