“Many a time,” she continued, “I’ve been coming along Henley Street, past the house where you were born, and I’ve seen something.” Judith stared at her for a moment. She wanted to ask what, but also dreaded the answer. “What have you seen?” she blurted out. “Something, or perhaps I should say someone.” “Who?” Judith asked, but she knew, she knew already. “Running, he is.” “Running?” The old midwife nodded. “From the door of the big house to the door of that dear little narrow one. As clear as anything. A figure, it is, running like the wind, as if the devil himself is at its back.”
