Once in the jitney, however, he essayed swiftly to efface the effect of the outburst.
“Don’t mind me, George; I’m not quite myself. It is a little trying, you know, to come out here again, but I didn’t mean to act like a spoiled kid over such a trifle.”
“That’s all right, Norman; you’re tired.” George’s tone was affectionately magnanimous. “Go to bed to-night as soon as you feel sleepy and I’ll finish the packing. I know every inch of the house and just what you will need to take with you.”
Nothing more was said until they drove up before the veranda. Everything was dark and abysmally silent, and the vines had grown in a tangled riot over the steps. Storm stumbled with his precious burden and almost fell, but he caught himself in time, shaking with sudden fear. God, if he had dropped that old valise and it had split asunder scattering the gold and banknotes in the darkness!
Chapter XXVI.
The Key
“By Jove, old man, I forgot that I have had the gas and electricity turned off!” Storm’s voice echoed back eerily, mockingly, from the silent rooms to where George had halted on the threshold. “The water is on still, though, thank the Lord! and the telephone, too. We’ll need that in the morning to ’phone for a car to take us to the station, for we both forgot to tell that jitney driver to come back for us.—I know where there are a lot of candles upstairs. You wait here and I’ll get them.”
George stood obediently by the open door and heard Storm’s fumbling footsteps pass up the stair. Then they died away into silence. The jitney had chugged off down the road, and only the sound of the night breeze rustling the vines on the veranda came to him. Unimaginative as he was, the house was so filled for him with memories of his friend’s wife that it seemed to him a gentle presence slept there, waiting only for light and the sound of their voices to call it into being. He could not have spoken aloud at that moment to save his life, so profoundly stirred was he; and he wondered at Storm’s fortitude. It was only a bluff, of course, a brave attempt to hide his breaking heart, and George felt a swift, strong wave of compassionate admiration for his friend. Poor old Norman!
Presently he heard him moving about overhead, and at last a light appeared, dim and wavering, at the head of the stairs. Other lights sprang up and then Storm descended.
“I’ve left four burning up there; got to go back and get the rods and bags and stuff,” he announced. George noticed that he had left the heavy valise upstairs. “Here! You hold this and we’ll light more and stick them around.”
“Not all over the place!” George objected. “Get all your things together in one room and we’ll pack there.”