Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. ’ Kimble nodded. ’ ‘So Charvill did tell him,’ Gerald said, once more staring into the hole in the wall. White assured her. Rummage, my boy, do. Capes. "Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do. Something seemed awry.
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