"She was badly frightened over something or another," he said to
himself. "She never stopped once, she went as straight and quick
as she could. I wonder what upset her like that?"
He went back the way he had come, and at the spot where he had seen
her enter the spinney he set to work to pick up her trail in the
direction whence she had appeared, for he thought that if he followed
it he might find out what had been the cause of her evident alarm.
The ground was much more open here, and the trail correspondingly
more difficult to follow, for often there was little but a trodden
blade of grass to show where she had passed; and sometimes, where
the ground was bare and hard, there was no visible sign left at all.
Once or twice at such places he was totally at fault, but by casting
round in a wide circle like a dog scenting his prey he was able to
pick up her tracks again.
They seemed to lead right into the depths of the wood, through lonely
spots that only the keepers knew, and where others seldom came.
But that he was on the right trail he presently had proof, for on
the bank of a lovely and hidden dell he picked up a tiny embroidered
handkerchief with the initials "E. C." worked in one corner.
It had evidently been lying there only a very short time, for it
was perfectly clean and fresh, and he picked it up and held it for
a moment in his hands, smiling to himself with pleasure at its
daintiness and smallness, and yet still uneasily wondering why she
had come here, and why she had fled away again so quickly.
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