"What was it?"
Ashton-Kirk was about to reply; but just then the small figure of
Locke made its appearance. He carried a lantern and was approaching
with stumbling steps, his eyes peering and blinking in their efforts
to pierce the gloom. Not until he was well upon the two did he make
them out; then he halted, lifted the light above his head and surveyed
them intently.
In the rays of the lantern Ashton-Kirk smiled urbanely, and bowed.
The supple fingers of the mute writhed inquiringly.
"Each of them forms itself into a wild note of interrogation," said
Pendleton. "They are fairly screaming questions at you."
Ashton-Kirk smiled even more agreeably at Locke and shook his head.
Then he went through the pantomime of one writing, and finished by
pointing to the house.
Carefully, eagerly, fearfully, the mute examined them; his
near-sighted eyes and the wavering light must have made it all but
impossible for him to make them out. However, he at length motioned
for them to follow him, and started back by the way which he had come.
But after a few steps he halted. He indicated that they were to remain
where they were; then he went to the shed-like building, closed the
door and locked it, placing the key in his pocket.
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