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. But when I got up to the gates, there they were open,
just as you see 'em now. At first I thought there was summat
wrong--that my eyes wasn't what they used to was. But they was all
right.'
'And you saw the gates shut last night?'
'Barred up, so as you couldn't move 'em, Miss!--not without a
crowbar or two, an' a couple of men.
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