that dark uncouth shape lumbering ahead of us, and a drone of
lugubrious music floating in our ears. Suddenly Esmé bounded
aside into some thick bushes, where we could not follow; the wail
rose to a shriek and then stopped altogether. This part of the
story I always hurry over, because it is really rather horrible.
When the beast joined us again, after an absence of a few minutes,
there was an air of patient understanding about him, as though he
knew that he had done something of which we disapproved, but which
he felt to be thoroughly justifiable.

"'How can you let that ravening beast trot by your side?' asked
Constance. She was looking more than ever like an albino
beetroot.

"'In the first place, I can't prevent it,' I said; 'and in the
second place, whatever else he may be, I doubt if he's ravening at
the present moment.'

"Constance shuddered. 'Do you think the poor little thing
suffered much?' came another of her futile questions.

"'The indications were all that way,' I said; 'on the other hand,
of course, it may have been crying from sheer temper. Children
sometimes do.'

"It was nearly pitch-dark when we emerged suddenly into the
highroad. A flash of lights and the whir of a motor went past us
at the same moment at uncomfortably close quarters. A thud and a
sharp screeching yell followed a second later. The car drew up,
and when I had ridden back to the spot I found a young man bending