When he reached the wall of the churchyard, he noticed that there was a light in one of the lower windows of that great Perpendicular Tower. He paused and contemplated this light. In that vapourless darkness its effect in the middle of a great mass of masonry was singular and arresting. While he leaned upon the low, crumbling wall and surveyed this light, he became aware of the sound of men’s voices⁠—voices whispering⁠ ⁠… whispering furtively and suspiciously. Suddenly, by means of a light much less clear than the light in the window⁠ ⁠… “It’s a lantern!” he thought⁠ ⁠… he detected the forms of three men, one of them much taller than the others, grouped around the boy’s grave. He had no sooner caught sight of this group of noctambulists than the light in the tower went out.

Never had he felt less inquisitive, less concerned. He was tempted to walk forward and let the whole thing go. However, where all motives were equally futile, let a straw turn the scale! He climbed stealthily over the wall and advanced to the church-door.