“Will you do as I tell you?”
I dragged him, almost literally dragged him, from the chair. Then, after extinguishing the lamp, I led him to the door of the bank and locked it, putting the key in my pocket.
“Now,” said I, “I want you to make me a promise. I want you to quit behaving like a coward, because you are not one, and promise me that you will go straight home and to bed. I'll see you again the first thing in the morning. Then, I think—yes, I think your troubles, the worst part of them, will be over.”
“But, Ros, PLEASE—I can't believe it! Won't you tell me—”
“Not a word. Will you promise me to behave like a man and go home? Or must I go with you?”
“No. I'll—I'll promise. I'll go straight home. But, oh Ros, I can't understand—”
“Good night.”
I left him standing there, stammering incoherently like a man awakening from a nightmare, and hurried away.
I could not describe my progress down the dark Lower Road and along the Shore Lane. I do not remember any portion of it. I think I ran most of the way and if I met any one—which is not likely, considering the time—he or she must have thought me crazy. My thoughts were centered upon one fixed purpose. I had made up my mind to do a certain thing and, if possible, to do it that very night. If I did not, if I had time in which to reflect, to consider consequences, I might lose my nerve and it would not be done at all.
It was with a feeling of great relief that, as I came in sight of the Colton house, I saw lights in the rooms on the lower floor. The family, not being native born Denboroites, had not retired even though it was well after ten. I hastened up the long drive, and stood before the big door, my hand upraised to the knocker. And then, just for a moment, I hesitated.