‘Oh, yes, he certainly seems to have seen the ghost,’ said Mrs Bradley. The gamekeeper capped them politely and walked on up the hill. The dog followed quietly at his heels, no longer afraid of the gate, and passed through it with him.

‘The ghost has gone,’ said Jonathan. ‘I wonder why?’

Mrs Bradley watched the man and his dog until they were silhouetted against the sky at the top of the rise. Then she followed Jonathan and Deborah, who, by that time, were some way ahead.

When she looked back she had a sudden although transitory shock. A man was leaning over the haunted gate, and that man was certainly not the gamekeeper. Whoever he was, he straightened himself immediately he saw her looking back, and, turning, strode in the direction of the bungalow.

CHAPTER 2

The Shape of Things to Come

‘… and if the night

Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed,

Disperse it, as new light dispels the dark.’

John Milton

The weather turned colder, and Deborah preferred the fire, so Mrs Bradley and Jonathan spent the daylight hours of Christmas Eve in tramping over the hills. She was astonished to discover the distances which could be covered without going outside the estate.

‘Of course, a good bit of this is not mine,’ Jonathan explained. ‘It belongs to the College now. But the two parts have only been separated since this last sale, and I’ve permission to tramp where I like. Pretty good, all of it, isn’t it? A chap named Daventry farms that bit down there. I’ve met him. He seems all right. His wife breeds Boxers.’

‘Breeds what? – Oh, a type of bulldog.’

‘Yes. I’m giving Deb a puppy for Christmas. She doesn’t know yet. I hope she’ll like it. They’re a sensible, clean-looking breed, very companionable, I believe, and good guards, too. I’ve bought the puppy very young because I want him to grow up on good terms with Rhu, my Irish wolf-hound, but he’s still to be weaned. Sally’s looking after Rhu at present, but I’m fetching him in the car after tea. It’s only fifteen miles. We’re hoping to have her over for a weekend in the New Year. She’s greatly looking forward to seeing you again.’

‘What shall you call the puppy?’ Mrs Bradley enquired, without making any promises which involved the New Year.

‘Oh, Deb will name him. I shall suggest Bob Fitzsimmons, but I don’t suppose it will pass! ’Morning, Ed!’

A carter was driving a heavy wagon along the rutted track. A jay alighted, with a noisy yell, about three yards in front of the wagon. It walked comically sideways, screeched hideously at the carter, and then flew up and almost tumbled on to the man’s knee. There, balancing, it clapped its wings at him.

‘Oh, there you are, then, you old boy, you,’ said the carter. The bird scolded him roundly.