To their left was the high wall of the Cemetery, on their right a row of small houses. Presently these ceased, and a high hedge took their place.
“Tommy,” said Tuppence. “I’m beginning to feel jumpy. The mist—and the silence. As though we were miles from anywhere.”
“One does feel like that,” agreed Tommy. “All alone in the world. It’s the effect of the mist, and not being able to see ahead of one.”
Tuppence nodded. “Just our footsteps echoing on the pavement. What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“I thought I heard other footsteps behind us.”
“You’ll be seeing the ghost in a minute if you work yourself up like this,” said Tommy kindly. “Don’t be so nervy. Are you afraid the spook policeman will lay his hand on your shoulder?”
Tuppence emitted a shrill squeal.
“Don’t, Tommy. Now you’ve put it into my head.”
She craned her head back over her shoulder, trying to peer into the white veil that was wrapped all round them.
“There they are again,” she whispered. “No, they’re in front now. Oh! Tommy, don’t say you can’t hear them?”
“I do hear something. Yes, it’s footsteps behind us. Somebody else walking this way to catch the train. I wonder—”
He stopped suddenly, and stood still, and Tuppence gave a gasp.
For the curtain of mist in front of them suddenly parted in the most artificial manner, and there, not twenty feet away a gigantic policeman