“No. Go now.”
“Will you shake hands?”
“No, no,” said North passionately. “Go, man; go now. Don’t come again for some days.”
“As you will, North; only remember this—a message will fetch me at any time. You will summon me if I can be of any use?”
North seemed to utter some words of assent, and then Salis heard a faint rustling sound approaching in the darkness, which, in spite of his manhood and firmness, made the curate wince, as he felt how much he was at North’s mercy if this complaint took an unpleasant mental turn.
But the rustling was explained directly after by the click of the door-lock. Then a pale bar of light shone into the room as the opening enlarged, and as it was evidently held ready Salis passed out, the door closed sharply behind him, the lock snapped into its place, and he shuddered as he heard a low, mocking laugh, followed by the vibration of the floor as the invalid began to pace rapidly up and down.
“What ought I to do?” muttered Salis, as he stood irresolutely upon the mat, till he felt a touch upon his arm, and, turning, found that Mrs Milt had evidently been waiting for him to come out.
“Well, sir?” she whispered, as they went down.
“Well, Mrs Milt?”
“You don’t think that he is—a little—you don’t think that is coming on?”