"What a relief, what a blessed relief!" he cried. "How delicious is this freshness after the storm! Ah, the beauty of the world! I drink it in; it is meat and drink to me."
He nodded to the others.
"I must go out," he said; "I must go out and see if this horrible storm that is past has done any damage. I am afraid some trees may have been struck by that cruel lightning, in all their strength and beauty. It is terrible to think of, that exquisite, delicate life, rent, shattered in a moment by the flame!"
He went out, and the two others looked at each other like augurs.
"Nerves," said Harry.
"Bad conscience," said Geoffrey, and these were all the comments made by either on Mr. Francis's hour of purgatory.
It was too late when the storm was over to go the intended ride, and after tea Harry and Geoffrey sauntered aimlessly out, played red Indians again among the islands of the lake (a game which, on the present occasion, was far less delightful to Harry than when he had played it last), and finally came homeward as dusk fell. As they passed down the box hedge, it suddenly occurred to Harry (so imaginative had been the realism with which his friend had played red Indians) that Geoffrey was perhaps capable of seeing the secret of the inside passage in a suitably romantic light, and he took him round to the back of the hedge.
"A mystery, Geoff, a deep, dark mystery," he said, and shutting his eyes against the springing twigs which had overgrown the door, jumped into the hedge. The elastic fibres of the box flew back like a spring into their normal position; and Geoffrey, who for the moment had been intent, with back turned, on the lighting of a cigarette, looked up when that operation was over, and found that Harry had vanished as suddenly and as completely as any lady in the cabinet trick. In the dusk it was impossible, except to any one who knew where to look, to see any difference of uniformity in the texture of the hedge, and the illusion of his vanishing was complete.
"Here, Geoff, come in," said Harry, still invisible, "and don't put out that match. It is darker than the plague of Egypt!"
"Come where—how? Where are you?"