Saviours, crawling along carefully over the wind-swept mows toward
St. Martin's Church. The exhausted maid was fast asleep. Nadine
Johnstone herself lay in a semi-trance, while the fretful old
scholar consulted his watch by the blinking carriage lights, and
then wildly urged the driver on. It was long after midnight when
they reached St. Martin's Church, with three miles yet to go. A
dreary and a dismal ride!
And all was silent, in the Banker's Folly where the old hall clock
loudly rang out twelve, rousing Mistress Janet Fairbarn from her
first beauty sleep. She started in terror as an unfamiliar sound
broke upon the haunting stillness of the night. The hollow sound of
a smothered cough in the Master's study, a man's deep-toned cough,
unmistakably masculine, aroused the spinster whose whole life had
been haunted by phantom burglars.
For the first time since her coming to the Folly, her loneliness
appalled her. "My God! There is the plate! The master away, and
no one near." Her nerves were thrilling with nature's indefinable
protest against the dangers of the creeping enemy of the night. A
sudden ray of hope lit up her heart. "Had the Professor returned?"
He had the keys. It would be his way. Yes, there was the sign of
his presence. And, so, timorously moving on tip-toe, she crept down
the hall in her white robes, and barefooted. Yes, he had returned,
for she had left the study door open.
Pages:
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440