ADVENTURE AT THE CASTLE 41 



the road, moor and black bog desolate and silent 

 but for the wind and the cry of the plover. Vast 

 mountains and kingly crags thronged the east, 

 purple in the level hght of evening, and peaceful 

 with the peace of a milHon years ; away to the west, 

 beyond the smoke wreaths from the chimneys of 

 Cloyne, the invisible sea was thundering against 

 rock and cUff, and the gulls and terns, the guille- 

 mots and cormorants, were wheeUng and crying, 

 answering with their voices the deep boom of the 

 sea caves. 



Miss Grimshaw tried to imagine what life would 

 be like here fifteen miles from a railway station. 

 Despite the beauty of the scenery there was over 

 all, or rather in it all, a touch of darkness, desola- 

 tion and poverty, a sombre note rising from the 

 black bog patches, the wretched cabins by the way, 

 the stone walls, the barren hills. 



But the freshness of the air, the newness of it 

 all, made up to the girl for the desolation. It was 

 different from Fleet Street, and anything that is 

 different from Fleet Street must have a certain 

 beauty of its own. She tried to imagine what 

 trick Moriarty was going to play on the gentleman 

 whose tall hat was so extremely out of keeping 

 with the surroundings. That person, who had left 

 the refreshments of the inn untried, had not come 

 unprovided; he produced a flask from his pocket 

 at times, fouHng the air v/ith the smell of bad 

 brandy, but not a word did he speak as mile after 

 mile sUpped by and the sun sank and vanished, 



