This was placed up against the window which matched with Kate’s at the other end of the house, and at a sign from Wilton, Leigh once more mounted, acting in a mechanical way, as if he were no longer master of his own acts, but completely influenced by his companion.
“Window fastened?” cried Wilton.
“Yes.”
“Break it. Mind; don’t cut your hand.”
But as Wilton spoke there was the crash of glass, Leigh thrust in his hand, and unfastened the casement, which he flung open and stepped in, the Squire following.
In this case the bed was tumbled from Claud having been lying down outside, but it was evident to his father that he had descended in the ordinary way, after locking his room and placing the key in his pocket, so as to make it seem that he was still in the room.
“That will do,” said Wilton, gruffly. “We can go down, and it must be by the way we came.”
He looked at the young doctor as if expecting him to ask some questions, but Leigh did not speak a word, merely drawing back for his companion to descend.
“You’ll hold your tongue about all this, Mr Leigh?” he said.
“Of course, sir,” said the young man coldly. “It is no affair of mine.”