This long self-communing had exhausted him. He could not sleep; he could neither read nor study. His mind required relief and solace in companionship. His wife was doubtless asleep; he would not disturb her. He would go to his friend's chamber; Christian Almer would be awake, and they would pass an hour in sympathising converse. Almer had asked him, when they bade each other good-night, whether he intended immediately to retire to rest, and he had answered that he had much to do in his study, and should probably be up till late in the night.
"I will not disturb you," Almer had said, "but I, too, am in no mood for sleep. I have letters to write, and if you happen to need society, come to my room, and we will have one of our old chats."
As he quitted the study to seek his friend the soft silvery chimes of a clock on the mantel proclaimed the hour. He counted the strokes. It was midnight.
CHAPTER V
[GAUTRAN FINDS A REFUGE]
When John Vanbrugh found himself alone he cried:
"What! Tired of my company already? That is a fine compliment to pay to a gentleman of my breeding. Gautran! Gautran!"
He listened; no answer came.
"A capital disappearance," he continued; "in its way dramatic. The scene, the time, all agreeing. It does not please me. Do you hear me, Gautran," he shouted. "It does not please me. If I were not tied to this spot in the execution of a most important mission, I would after you, my friend, and teach you better manners. He drank my brandy, too, the ungrateful rogue. A waste of good liquor--a sheer waste! He gets no more without paying its equivalent."
Vanbrugh indulged in this soliloquy without allowing his wrath to interfere with his watch; not for a single moment did he shift his gaze from the windows of the Advocate's study.