He wanted to get far away from it as fast as possible.

The sun, now sinking very low, sent up rays which kindled the crests of a group of firs to the left of the front door.
He had the absurd fancy that they were torches flaming before a bier.
It was well that the two had moved quietly and kept in shadow.
Footsteps fell on their ears, on the path which threaded the lawn just beyond the sunk-fence.

It was the keeper of the West Lodge and he carried something on his back, but both that and his face were indistinct in the half-light.
Other footsteps were heard, coming from the other side of the lawn.

A man's shod feet rang on the stone of a flagged path, and from their irregular fall it was plain that he was lame.

The two men met near the door, and spoke together.