“Oh! you could tell he was all right,” said Tony; “look at his eyes. But what fun it’s all been. Aren’t you glad you came down?”
Maradick couldn’t honestly say that he was, but he answered in the affirmative. “Only, you know,” he said, laughing, “it’s an unusual evening for a man like myself. We run along on wheels and prefer sticking to the rails.”
They were climbing the hill. “Why, this is Trevenna Street!” cried Tony, catching sight of the name on one of the houses. “The man lives here.”
The street was quaint and picturesque, and on some of the walls there was ancient carving; heads leered at them from over the doors and window-ledges. Then it struck twelve from somewhere in the town, and immediately all the lights went out; the street was in darkness, for, at the moment, the clouds were over the moon.
“We’re in the provinces,” said Tony, laughing. “We ought to have link-boys.”
Suddenly above their heads there was a light. A window was flung up and some one was standing there with a candle. It was a girl; in the candle-light she stood out brilliantly against the black background. She leaned out of the window.
“Is that you, father?” she called.
Then some one spoke from inside the room. There was a petulant “Oh bother! Miss Minns!” and then the window closed.
Maradick had scarcely noticed the affair. He was hurrying up the hill, eager to reach the hotel.
But Tony stood where he was. “By Jove!” he cried. “Did you see her eyes? Wonderful! Why, you never in all your life——!”