But the boy heard neither of them as he ran on till the doctor heard the footsteps and stopped.
“Yes,” he said, “what is it?”
“Only me—Aleck Macey, sir.”
“Yes, my lad? Have you brought a message from Mr Syme?”
“No, sir; I only wanted—I only thought—I—I—Doctor Lee, please let me come and wait with you till it’s time to start.”
Macey began falteringly, but his last words came out with a rush.
“Why not go back to bed, my lad, and get some rest—some sleep?”
“Rest?—sleep? Who is going to sleep when, for all we know, poor old Vane’s lying helpless somewhere out on the moor. Let me come and stop with you.”
For answer the doctor laid his hand upon Macey’s shoulder, and they reached the Little Manor swing-gate and passed up the avenue without a word.
There were lights burning in two of the front windows, and long before they reached the front door in the porch, it was opened, and a warm glow of light shone out upon the advancing figures. It threw up, too, the figure of Aunt Hannah, who, as soon as she realised the fact that there were two figures approaching, ran out and before the doctor could enlighten her as to the truth, she flung her arms round Macey’s neck, and hugged him to her breast, sobbing wildly.