But surely there was a gleam that seemed to move and come fitfully
towards him--or was it only star-shine dancing on the waves of the Race
which always ran against the tide?
He stood to watch, then lost the gleam, and crouched again disappointed.
The boat must come round Quette d'Amont, the great pile of rock that lay
off the eastern corner, and the first glimpse he could hope to get of it
in the darkness would be there.
Then, suddenly, in that curious way in which one sometimes sees more out
of the tail of one's eye than out of the front of it, he got an
impression--and with it a start--of something moving noiselessly among
the tumbled rocks below on his left.
It was a dark night, but the glory of the stars lifted it out of the
ebony-ruler category. It was a wide, thin, lofty darkness, but still
black enough along the sides of his rock, and down there it seemed to
him that something moved, something dim and shadowy and silent.
He thought of the dead man in his chamber down below. Could he be in the
habit of walking of a night? He thought of ghosts, of which, if popular
belief was anything to go by, Sark was full; and there was nothing to
hinder them coming across to L'Etat for their Sabbat.
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