In a moment he was up and gliding through the darkness to meet who
was coming, and almost at once a voice hailed him cautiously.
"There you are, Dunn," Deede Dawson said. "I've been looking for
you everywhere. Tomorrow or next day we shall be able to strike;
everything is ready at last, and I'll tell you now exactly what we
are going to do."
"That's good news," said Dunn softly.
"Come this way," Deede Dawson said, and led Dunn through the
darkness to the gate that admitted to the Bittermeads grounds from
the high road.
Here he paused, and stood for a long time in silence, leaning on
the gate and looking out across the road to the common beyond.
Close beside him stood Dunn, controlling his impatience as best he
could, and wondering if at last the secret springs of all these
happenings was to be laid bare to him.
But Deede Dawson seemed in no hurry to begin. For a long time he
remained in the same attitude, silent and sombre in the darkness,
and when at last he spoke it was to utter a remark that quite took
Dunn by surprise.
"What a lovely night," he said in low and pensive tones, very unlike
those he generally used. "I remember when I was a boy--that's a
long time ago."
Dunn was too surprised by this sudden and very unexpected lapse into
sentiment to answer. Deede Dawson went on as if thinking to himself:
"A long time--I've done a lot--seen a lot since then--too much,
perhaps--I remember mother told me once--poor soul, I believe she
used to be rather proud of me--"
"Your mother?" Dunn said wondering greatly to think this man should
still have such memories.
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