“Tell Mr Salis—”
There was a pause, and the curate went close to the door.
“North, old fellow,” he said gently; “don’t turn your back on all your friends. What have I done to be treated thus?”
There was another pause, during which those on the landing listened anxiously fulsome response from within.
But all remained perfectly still, and Salis ventured to appeal again.
“I will not stop longer than you like, old fellow,” he said; “but I am uneasy, and—”
He was interrupted by the sharp snap made by the lock of the door. Then the handle was turned, and a long slit of darkness was revealed.
“Come in,” said a harsh voice; and Salis turned and gave Mrs Milt a satisfied nod and smile, as he entered North’s room and closed the door.
The sensation was strange, that passing from broad daylight into intense darkness, and Salis tried to recall the configuration of the room, and the position of window and bed, as he felt North brush past him, and lock the door.
For it was evident that an attempt had been made to exclude every ray of light, and not without success.