"I'll hear from HIM," I said to myself; but he stood in the empty
window-frame, against the trees of the park, and continued to
watch me without moving. I looked back at him for a time, to see
if the sense that he was being watched would not rouse him. Half
the width of the court lay between us, and we stared at each
other silently across it. But he did not stir, and at last I
turned away. Behind me I found the rest of the pack, with a
newcomer added: a small black greyhound with pale agate-coloured
eyes. He was shivering a little, and his expression was more
timid than that of the others. I noticed that he kept a little
behind them. And still there was not a sound.

I stood there for fully five minutes, the circle about me--
waiting, as they seemed to be waiting. At last I went up to the
little golden-brown dog and stooped to pat him. As I did so, I
heard myself laugh. The little dog did not start, or growl, or
take his eyes from me--he simply slipped back about a yard, and
then paused and continued to look at me. "Oh, hang it!" I
exclaimed aloud, and walked across the court toward the well.

As I advanced, the dogs separated and slid away into different
corners of the court. I examined the urns on the well, tried a
locked door or two, and up and down the dumb facade; then I faced
about toward the chapel. When I turned I perceived that all the
dogs had disappeared except the old pointer, who still watched me
from the empty window-frame. It was rather a relief to be rid of
that cloud of witnesses; and I began to look about me for a way
to the back of the house. "Perhaps there'll be somebody in the
garden," I thought. I found a way across the moat, scrambled