There were expiring lights in the drawing-room, the blinds of which were up, and as the cab stopped at the steps a figure appeared at one of the windows, and Cleve Verney opened it, and told the driver, "Don't mind knocking, I'll go down."
"Come up-stairs," said Cleve, as he stood at the open door, addressing Sedley, and mistaking him for the person whom he had employed.
Up ran Tom Sedley at his heels.
"Hollo! Sedley—what brings you here?" said Cleve, when Tom appeared in the light of the candles. "You don't mean to say the ball has been going on till now—or is it a scrape?"
"Nothing—only this I've been commissioned to give you," and he placed Miss Sheckleton's note in his hand.
Cleve had looked wofully haggard and anxious as Tom entered. But his countenance changed now to an ashy paleness, and there was no mistaking his extreme agitation.
He opened the note—a very brief one it seemed—and read it.
"Thank God!" he said with a great sigh, and then he walked to the window and looked out, and returned again to the candles and read the note once more.
"How did you know I was up, Tom?"
"The lights in the windows."