“Three years ago from today,/her husband and two young brothers went hunting.// They left through that window/and never came back.// When they were crossing the moors,/they got stuck in a bog.// It had been a terrible, wet summer.// Safe places were suddenly dangerous.// Their bodies were never found.// That was the worst thing.”// The girl began to shiver.// “Poor aunt always thinks/they’ll come back someday/with our brown spaniel.// It was lost, too.// She thinks/they’ll walk in through that window.// That’s why the window is kept open/every evening until sunset.// Dear aunt often talks about it.// Her husband had his white coat over his arm.// And Ronnie,/her youngest brother,/was singing,/‘Bertie, why do you bound?’// He always sang that to tease her.// You know,/sometimes on quiet evenings like this,/I almost get a strange feeling/that they’ll all walk in through that window....”//
　Just then the aunt rushed into the room,/apologizing for being late.// It was a relief for Framton.//
　“I hope Vera has been nice to you?”/she said.//
　“She has been very interesting,”/replied Framton.//
　“I hope you don’t mind the open window,”/said Mrs. Sappleton happily.// “My husband and brothers will be home soon/from hunting.// They always come in this way.// They’ve been out in the moors today.// So,/they’ll get mud on my poor carpets.”//
　She talked cheerfully about hunting/and how there wouldn’t be many birds this winter.// For Framton,/the topic was terrible.// He made a desperate effort/to change the conversation to something less upsetting.//
　But he noticed/that the aunt wasn’t paying attention.// She kept looking out the window.// It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence/that he had paid a visit/on this sad anniversary.//
　Nervously,/Framton talked about his mental health.// He needed rest/and shouldn’t get excited.// And no heavy exercise.// He talked and talked.//
　Mrs. Sappleton was about to yawn/but suddenly sat up.//
　“Here they are at last!”/she cried.// “Just in time for tea.// And they’re covered in mud.”//
　Framton shivered.// He looked sympathetically toward the niece.// But the girl was staring through the open window/and her eyes were filled with horror.// Framton turned/and looked in the same direction.//
　In the twilight,/three figures were walking across the lawn/toward the window.// They all carried guns/and one man had a white coat over his shoulders.// A brown spaniel walked close behind.// Quietly they neared the house.// Then a loud voice began to sing,/“Bertie, why do you bound?”//