I left him at once, and I heard the key turn in the door after me. At half-past three a fly arrived from the Junction, and he appeared upon the step carrying a small black bag in his hand.
“I shall be back,” he said, “on Friday. Goodbye, Alice; goodbye, Kate.”
We kissed him, and he got up in the carriage and drove off. Alice and I remained upon the doorstep looking at one another. We both felt that there was something mysterious about his sudden departure.
“Have you any idea what it means?” she asked me.
I shook my head.
“He has not told me anything,” I said. “Didn’t you say that he used to go to London often when you were at Belchester?”
Alice looked very grave.
“Yes,” she said; “and that is one reason why we left the place. The people did not like it. He went away very often; and, indeed, old Colonel Dacre wrote to the Bishop about it.”
“He was a meddlesome old duffer,” I remarked, leaning against the door-post with my face turned towards the Yellow House.