As he was about to descend the stairs he turned and glanced towards a closed door at the end of the passage.
It was the door of Mary's room and this was his farewell to the wife whose only thought was of him, with whom, in "The blessed bond of board and bed" he had spent the happy years of his first manhood and success.
A glance at the closed door; an almost complacent smile; after all those years of holy intimacy this was his farewell.
As he descended the stairs, the Murderer was humming a little tune.
The two maid servants were in the hall to see him go. They were fond of him. He was a kind and generous master.
"You're looking much better this morning, sir," said Phœbe. She was pretty and privileged. . . .
"I'm feeling very well, Phœbe. This little trip will do me a lot of good, and I shall bring home lots of birds for you to cook. Now mind both you girls look after your Mistress well. I shall expect to see her greatly improved when I return. Give her my love when she wakes up. Don't forward any letters because I am not certain where I shall be. It will be in the Blackwater neighbourhood, Brightlingsea, or I may make my headquarters at Colchester for the three days. But I can't be quite sure. I shall be back in three days."
"Good morning, sir. I hope you'll have good sport."
"Thank you, Phœbe—that's right, Tumpany, put Trust on the seat first and then get up yourself—what's the matter with the dog?—never saw him so shy. No, James, you drive—all right?—Let her go then."
The impatient mare in the shafts of the cart pawed the gravel and was off. The trap rolled out of the drive as Lothian lit a cigar.