“I shall,” said Waller, with a laugh. “I am not going to have you starve yourself to death up in my room. There, jump up and come and shut the door, and then have a good long read. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, and then we will have a good game at draughts or chess. But I mustn’t be up here too much, or it will make the girls suspicious. There, good-bye for the present.”
Waller went down and busied himself at once over the letter to his father, telling him of some of the things that were going on, but carefully—though strongly tempted—omitting all allusion to the fugitive.
It was rather a slow and laborious task for the boy, clever as he was at most things, though none too able in the use of a quill pen. But he got his letter finished at last, the big post-paper carefully folded and sealed, and then went off to the post-bag at the little village shop, before hurrying back home to partake of his tea, which was waiting.
It was a lonely meal, and the boy sighed as he stirred the sugar, and wished he could have Godfrey Boyne down, as companion for himself, and to cheer the poor fellow up.
It was quite dark by the time he had done, and with the full intention of suggesting that they should wait till the girls had gone to bed, and then steal down together for a walk in the forest, the boy rose to go and make an observation or two as to the position of the servants, before stealing up to join his friend.
Waller rose, went across to the bell, the pull of which he had taken in his hand, when he was startled by a distant scream, followed by half a dozen more, and the trampling of feet somewhere above, while, as he rushed out into the hall, he was just in time to hear a door bang and quick steps hurrying along the kitchen passage.