Wednesday, 17th October

Rain all day. In the evening, I put on my waterproof and I walked far
upon the sodden moor, full of dark imaginings, the rain beating upon
my face and the wind whistling about my ears, thinking of the wretched
convict out there upon the bleak, cold, shelterless moor, and the
solitary watcher on the black tor.
As I walked back, I was overtaken by Dr. Mortimer, driving in his dog-
cart over the rough moorland track which led from the outlying farmhouse
of Foulmire. Hardly a day has passed that he has not called at the Hall to see
how we were getting on. He gave me a lift homeward, but I found him
troubled over his little spaniel who had disappeared on the moor.
Thinking of the pony on the Grimpen Mire, I fancied to myself that he
