Then as the mist thinned and drifted she saw the thing plain--the puffing engine, one man driving and another following, while in their wake ran the black glistening furrow, where the grass had been.
And here was the gate.

Pamela stood open-mouthed.

Where were the elaborate defences and barricades of which rumour had been full the night before?
The big gate swung idly on its hinges.

And in front of it stood two men placidly smoking, in company with the village policeman.

Not a trace of any obstruction--no hurdles, no barbed wire, only a few ends of rope lying in the road.
Then, looking round, she perceived old Perley, with a bag of ferrets in his hand, emerging from the mist, and she ran up to him breathlessly.
'So they've come, Perley! Was it they forced the gate ?' Perley scratched his head with his free hand.
'Well, it's an uncommon queer thing, Miss--but I can't tell yer who opened them gates! I come along here about seven o'clock this mornin', and the fog was so thick yo couldn't see nothin' beyond a yard or two.