A. E. W. Mason

“ Durrance was still standing just within the enclosure, and, as it seemed, looking straight towards the two people seated on the bench.
"Ethne," he said, rather than called; and the quiet unquestioning voice made the illusion that he saw extraordinarily complete.
"It's impossible that he is blind," said Willoughby. "He sees us."
"He sees nothing."
Again Durrance called "Ethne," but now in a louder voice, and a voice of doubt.
"Do you hear? He is not sure," whispered Ethne. "Keep very still." ”

“ Willoughby turned and stared at her, disbelieving the evidence of his ears. But her face showed him quite clearly that she was thoroughly pleased. Ethne was a Celt, and she had the Celtic feeling that death was not a very important matter. She could hate, too, and she could be hard as iron to the men she hated. And these three men she hated exceedingly. It was true that she had agreed with them, that she had given a feather, the fourth feather, to Harry Feversham just to show that she agreed, but she did not trouble her head about that. ”

“ From the drawing-room window she had watched Ethne and Durrance meet at the foot of the terrace-steps, she had seen them walk together towards the estuary, she had noticed Willoughby's boat as it ran aground in the wide gap between the trees, she had seen a man disembark, and Ethne go forward to meet him. Mrs. Adair was not the woman to leave her post of observation at such a moment, and from the cover of the curtains she continued to watch with all the curiosity of a woman in a village who draws down the blind, that unobserved she may get a better peep at the stranger passing down the street. ”