“There’s a great dhraught from that window, miss,” he remarked. “You’d be best let me shut the shutthers. You’ll see no sign of Masther Willy this day, unless he’s coming by the last thrain.”
“Why, what makes you think that?” I asked eagerly.
“Well, miss, the postman’s just afther being here, and he said there was one that saw him at the station at Moycullen last night.”
“At the station—Moycullen!” I repeated, in bewilderment. “Was he going away?”
“He was, miss. Sure he was seen getting into the thrain, though the dear knows where he was going!”
“Have you told the master that he was seen there?”
“I did, miss. Sure he’s asking for him the whole day. He’s very unaisy in his mind. He’s roaming, roaming through the house all the day, and he’s give ordhers to have his dinner sent to his own room. He wasn’t best pleased when he found Masther Willy had locked up the room that’s next your own, and twice, an’ I coming upstairs, I seen him sthriving to open the door.”
“Master Willy did that to prevent Moll getting in there,” I explained. “I will tell the master so myself.”
“Don’t say a word to him, miss, good nor bad,” said Roche, shaking his knotted forefinger at me expressively. “He’ll forget—he’ll forget——” He sniffed significantly, and, as if to prevent himself from saying any more, he shuffled out of the room.
But Willy did not come by the last train; indeed, the storm was still too violent for any one to travel. I lay awake the greater part of the night, filled with feverish fears and fancies. Several times I could have been sure that I heard some one wandering about the house, and once I thought there was a shaking and pushing at the locked door of the room next to mine.