In the darkness he looked for, found, and lifted, the heavy latch.

Together they began pacing down the path between the graves in the churchyard, and then all of a sudden he put his hand on her arm: "What's that?
Hark!" he whispered.
He seemed to hear issuing from the grand old church a confused, musical medley of sounds--a bleating, a neighing, a lowing, even a faint trumpeting, all mingling together and forming a strange, not unmelodious harmony.
"D'you hear anything, Bubbles ?" he asked, his heart beating, his face, in the darkness, all aglow.
"No, nothing," she answered back, surprised.

"We must hurry, Bill.

We're late as it is.".