"When you are asleep? Vivid dreams?"
"Perhaps," said the boy quietly, "but in the dark I can--no matter. Do not let us talk Dr. Jim. You only laugh at me and I want to go home."
"To warn Stephen?" said Herrick angrily.
"Yes," retorted Sidney doggedly, "to warn Stephen. He is in danger."
"Well I'll go with you Sidney. It seems that you must be humoured. But to oblige me, see if you can discern the Arabian Nights in the ink-pot. I am sure you will see Stephen seated quietly in your drawing-room talking to your sisters, with Joyce."
Very unwillingly Sidney did what he was asked. He knew that Herrick was laughing at him, and was particularly sensitive to ridicule. With a look of reproach which made Dr. Jim feel rather ashamed the boy drew the big silver ink-pot towards him and stared into the black oval. The chimes of the clock striking eleven had just died away and there was an absolute silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire. All the lights in the room had been turned off early in the evening at the request of Sidney himself. The boy disliked the full blaze. Only on the writing-table was a green-shaded lamp, and close to this:--but in such a position that the light did not fall into the ink-well, stood the silver pot. Herrick half vexed with himself for encouraging this folly, watched the boy quietly from an arm-chair. Sidney bent over the ink and stared into it hard. After a minute or two Herrick saw a quiver pass through the boy's frame. "What is it Sidney?"
"I see the drawing-room at Biffstead," said Sidney quietly, "but Stephen is not there! Mr. Joyce is talking to Ida and Bess."
Herrick laughed. "What nonsense! Stephen is certainly there. If he is not, had you not better look for him?"
"I see him now," continued Sidney taking no notice of the ridicule. "He is walking in the churchyard."
"Rubbish!" declared the sceptic in the arm-chair, "what should take Stephen to the churchyard at this time of the night? It is not on his way home."