es and cy I kneury at t. Once  to o believe I raveling into t at time as into tryside. t, one cottages; t, ter tance betil isolated farmerruptions to ter fields. At last  even t gre a vergeless road and eac, vague undulations of darkness.

    ‘Is the moors?“ I asked.

    ‘It is,“ to t all I could make out erlogged sky t pressed doropain distance even t from our inguished.

    At an unmarked junction urned off tony track. e stopped to open a gate and close it be, jolting and sher mile.

    Miss inter’s - seemed to merge into eac revealed t t turn of t croucepped out to see t o pull a of an unlit porcters blacked out t a single sign of ation. Closed in upon itself, to sors.

    I rang ts clang ed in ted I c till no one came to the door.

    About to ring for a time, I he door was opened.

    ting. At first sig, neat  it  made ion in ted,  seemed to me, as sciny lance for glance, t sained y only by deliberate effort.

    ‘Good evening,“ I said. ”I am Margaret Lea.“

    ‘ting you.“

    is it t alloendings? For I understood quite clearly in t moment t sions aste; perransmit em unknoions in tever t as surely t it  me in particular t alarmed  only t t I ranger.

    Surned t a sound and t a squeak as ts o place.

    Standing t in t time t profound oddity of ter’s irely silent.

    told me  s my journey and mentioned t times to get  er.  of silence t descended and extinguisfalls, and muffled ter anothe music room.

    t -furnis did it. Overstu