“I’m not tired. You can stop if you like. You won’t find me very good company.” Bayle walked to the couch again, and stood looking down at the handsome dimly-seen face for a few minutes, while, with an impatient gesture, Crellock walked back into the verandah. At the end of a few minutes Bayle joined him. “You are going to stay then?” said Crellock.

“No,” replied Bayle, “I am going home.”

“Better stop,” sneered Crellock. “He’ll be safer if you do. I might do him some mischief.”

“No, Stephen Crellock,” said Bayle calmly, “I am not afraid of that; bad as you are. Good-night.”

Crellock started at the words “Bad as you are,” but the friendly sound of the “good-night” checked him.

“Good-night,” he said, hoarsely; and he stood watching the dark figure till it disappeared amongst the trees, and then paced the verandah, and sat and smoked till morning.


Volume Four—Chapter Eleven.

The Doctor Gives Way.