Well, I can tell you that you have driven me up
a hill between forests of pines, and are now driving me across open
country of heather."
Sutch turned quickly towards Durrance.
"The hill, of course, you would notice. But the pines?"
"The air was close. I knew there were trees. I guessed they were pines."
"And the open country?"
"The wind blows clear across it. There's a dry stiff rustle besides. I
have never heard quite that sound except when the wind blows across
heather."
He turned the conversation back to Harry Feversham and his
disappearance, and the cause of his disappearance. He made no mention,
Sutch remarked, of the fourth white feather which Ethne herself had
added to the three. But the history of the three which had come by the
post to Ramelton he knew to its last letter.
"I was acquainted with the men who sent them," he said, "Trench,
Castleton, Willoughby. I met them daily in Suakin, just ordinary
officers, one rather shrewd, the second quite commonplace, the third
distinctly stupid. I saw them going quietly about the routine of their
work. It seems quite strange to me now. There should have been some mark
set upon them, setting them apart as the particular messengers of fate.
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