"There's nowt to go agen me bein' happy," he said, a little grimly. "Not yet, as I know on. I don't let things go agen me easy."
About half an hour later, he stood in the road before his partner's house. The night was warm, and the windows of the drawing-room were thrown open. He stood and looked up at them for a minute and then spoke aloud.
"Aye," he said, "he's there, by George!"
He could see inside plainly, and the things he saw best were Rachel Ffrench and Murdoch. Ffrench himself sat in a large chair, reading. Miss Ffrench stood upon the hearth. She rested an arm upon the low mantel, and talked to Murdoch, who stood opposite to her. The man who watched uttered an oath at the sight of her.
"Him!" he said. "Him—damn him!" and grew hot and cold by turns.
He kept his stand for full ten minutes, and then crossed the road.
The servant who answered his summons at the door regarded him with amazement.
"I know they're in," he said, making his way past him. "I saw 'em through the window."
Those in the drawing-room heard his heavy feet as he mounted the staircase. It is possible that each recognized the sound. Ffrench rose hurriedly, and, it must be owned, with some slight trepidation. Rachel merely turned her face toward the door. She did not change her position otherwise at all. Murdoch did not move.
"My dear fellow," said Ffrench, with misplaced enthusiasm. "I am glad to see you."