Half-way down the passage he suddenly became aware of an advancing light, and directly after he saw that it was gleaming from the brown face of Bart.
“Hallo! What now?” he growled. “Where are you going?”
“The captain! Did you meet the captain?” said Humphrey hastily.
“Meet him! No. He came to me and sent me back,” said Bart, grimly.
“Where is he, then?”
“At his quarters, of course.”
Humphrey Armstrong turned upon his heel frowning, as he felt that a great deal of what he had been saying must have been addressed to vacancy.
He did not turn his head as he paced the corridor, but he was aware that he was followed by Bart, whose lantern shed its faint yellow gleam upon the great curtain till he had passed through, and all was in darkness as he crossed the great chamber and threw himself upon the couch. But the place was feebly illuminated directly after, as Bart drew the drapery aside and peered in, holding the lantern well above his head to satisfy himself that his prisoner was there.
Then he drew back, the great curtain fell into its place, and Humphrey’s jailer went slowly to his niche, where he set down his light, seated himself, and with arms folded and chin resting upon his breast, moodily brooded over the position.
“A curse!” he muttered more than once—“a curse! If he were dead there would be peace once more, for she would forget him.”