For he turned at once to Sylvia.
"We puzzled them fairly, didn't we ?" he said, with a smile.

But the smile somehow seemed hardly real, and his face was very white.
"It's the moonlight," he explained.

"Come!" They walked quietly through the silent village where the thick eaves of the cottages threw their black shadows on the white moonlit road, past the mill and the running water, to a gate which opened on the down.
They unlatched the gate noiselessly and climbed the bare slope of grass.

Half way up Chayne turned and looked down upon the house.

There was no longer any light in any window.