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Updated: June 27, 2025
So I walked northwards down on the beach, across the grass-sprinkled sandhills and the mud-bottomed marshes. I walked with my cap stuffed in my pocket, my head bared to the freshening wind, and all the way I met no living creature. As I walked, my thoughts, which had been concentrated for these last few days upon my work, went back to that terrible half-hour at Braster Grange. I thought of Ray.
The pathway was a private one leading from the house only to the "Brand," and down the cliff to Braster. It was barely seven o'clock, and the footsteps were no labouring man's. I think that I knew very well who it was that came so softly down the cone-strewn path. We faced one another with little of the mask of surprise.
"Under the circumstances you mention, if you were to assert that Lord Blenavon was at Braster Grange I do not think that I should contradict you." Ray smiled. "Thank you, doctor," he said. "Good morning." The doctor drove on, and we pursued our way. "It was a very dark night," Ray said, half to himself, "but if Blenavon was the man I hit he ought to have a cracked skull."
Then suddenly I found myself slackening my pace. I walked slower and slower. At last I stopped. About fifty yards farther on my left was Braster Grange. It stood a little way back from the road. Its gardens were enclosed by a thin storm-bent hedge, just thick enough to be a screen from the road.
I am sorry that I ever asked you for one moment to keep your counsel about the fellow. I never saw him, I do not know who he was, I know nothing about him. And I don't want to, Miss Moyat. He may have been prince or pedlar for anything I care." "Well, he wasn't an ordinary person, after all," she declared, with an air of mystery. "Have you heard of the lady who's taken Braster Grange?
Let me see, I am sure that I know your face, do I not?" she added, turning to Blanche Moyat with a smile. "You live in Braster, surely?" "I am Miss Moyat," Blanche answered quietly. "Of course. Dear me! I ought to have recognized you. We have been neighbours for a good many years." "I will wish you good-afternoon, Mr. Ducaine," Blanche said, turning to me.
Certainly Ray's advice was good. The sooner I was back in Braster the better. From the station I had walked straight to Ray's house, and from Ray's house I returned, without any deviation, direct to the great terminus. For a man with less than fifty pounds in the world London is scarcely a hospitable city.
I was very little interested, but was prepared to welcome any change in the conversation. "Do you know who is coming there?" I asked. "An American lady, I believe, name of Lessing. I don't know what strangers want coming to such a place, I'm sure." I glanced involuntarily over my shoulder. Braster Grange was a long grim pile of buildings, which had been unoccupied for many years.
"I wish that we were going back to Braster to-morrow," she said suddenly. "Everything and everybody is different here. You seem to spend most of your time trying to avoid me, and Colonel Ray, I do not know what is the matter with him, but he has become like a walking tragedy." "I have not tried to avoid you," I said. Then I stopped short.
I really want you to come." "In that case," I answered, "of course I shall be delighted." She pointed to Braster Grange away on the other side of the village. I noticed for the first time that it was all lit up. "Have you heard anything of our new neighbours?" she asked. "Only their names," I answered. "I did not even know that they had arrived." "There is only a woman, I believe," she said.
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