I'm sure to have tonsilitis. I feel it when I cough." He
coughed again, louder than before.
Suddenly the steady beam of a dark lantern struck their faces
squarely; a moment later the cadaverous Mr. Hooker was climbing over
the graveyard fence.
"Am I late?" he asked, as he came forward.
"I say, turn that beastly light the other way," complained
Windomshire, half blinded. "I thought no one but robbers carried dark
lanterns."
"The darker the deed, the darker the lantern," said Mr. Hooker,
genially. "Good-evening, madam. Are we the only ones here?" He was
very matter-of-fact and business-like; Anne loathed him on the
instant.
"We're all here but the minister and the other witness. I'll cough
again--although it hurts me to do it."
He coughed thrice, but instead of a response in kind, three sharp
whistles came from the trees at the left.
"What's that?" he gasped. "Has he forgotten the signal?"
"Maybe he is trying to cough," said Hooker, "and can't do any better
than wheeze. It's this rotten weather."
"No, it was a whistle. Good Heavens, Anne--it may be detectives."
"Detectives!" exclaimed Mr.
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