The sun had set behind the far-off western hills just before Mallalieu and Stoner had met, and while they talked dusk had come on.

The moorlands were now growing dark and vague, and it seemed to Mallalieu that as the light failed the silence increased.

He looked round him, fearful lest any of the shepherds of the district had come up to take a Sunday glance at their flocks.

And once he thought he saw a figure at a little distance away along the edge of the trees, and he strained and strained his eyes in its direction--and concluded it was nothing.

Presently he strained his eyes in another way--he crept cautiously to the edge of the quarry, and looked over the broken railing, and far down on the limestone rocks beneath he saw Stoner, lying on his back, motionless.
Long experience of the moorlands and their nooks and crannies enabled Mallalieu to make his way down to the bottom of the quarry by a descent through a brake of gorse and bramble.