CHAPTER IV. DOUGAL
"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Dickson. "You're coming home to your supper. It was to be on the chap of nine."
"I'm going back to that place."
The man was clearly demented and must be humoured. "Well, you must wait till the morn's morning. It's very near dark now, and those are two ugly customers wandering about yonder. You'd better sleep the night on it."
Mr. Heritage seemed to be persuaded. He suffered himself to be led up the now dusky slopes to the gate where the road from the village ended. He walked listlessly like a man engaged in painful reflection. Once only he broke the silence.
"You heard the singing?" he asked.
Dickson was a very poor hand at a lie. "I heard something," he admitted.
"You heard a girl's voice singing?"
"It sounded like that,"
