He half expected to see a ghostly light flit past a window.

It was intensely dark in the thicket, but the shadowy marsh beyond silhouetted the house into a black relief.

He was on all fours behind a thick pile of brush, nervously drawing his pipe from his pocket, conscious that he needed it to steady his nerves, when a fresh sound, rising above the faint sobs, reached his ears.

Then the low voice of a man came from some place in the darkness, and these words rang out distinctly: "Damn you!" He drew back involuntarily, for the voice seemed to be at his elbow.

The sobs ceased suddenly, as if choked by a mighty hand.
The listener's inclination was to follow the example of Anderson Crow and run madly off into the night.