Lyon felt both relieved and disappointed. At least he could assure Lawrence that Miss Wolcott denied all knowledge of the cane. That would be something. Yet if Lawrence was as positive as he seemed to be about having left it here, would her denial have any weight? Lawrence could not doubt his own knowledge of facts. Might it be possible that Mr. Wolcott had carried the cane away somewhere?
As though in answer to his unspoken thought, the old gentleman, in a flapping dressing gown, with a lighted candle in his hand and a highly disapproving look on his face appeared at that moment at the door.
"I thought I heard voices, but I couldn't quite believe my ears," he said, with a frowning glance. "Do you know what time it is, young man?"
"Time that I were going, I know," said Lyon briskly. "It must be well on toward twelve."
"Well on toward two in the morning," protested Mr. Wolcott.
"You don't really mean it! I certainly have lost count of the time. I'm going this minute. Forgive me for keeping you up in this unconscionable way. Miss Wolcott. And good night."
He pressed her hand encouragingly, and went out to the hall where he had hung his hat and coat. Fortunately the door to the library was tight closed, as his first glance had assured him. He should have to leave it to Miss Wolcott to see that Broughton had a chance to slip out later.
As he was about to let himself out, his ruling passion reasserted itself. Blandly he looked the old gentleman in the eye. "I believe I'll ask you to lend me a cane, since it's so late," he said.
"Surely, surely. Take this one," cried the flattered old gentleman. "Or perhaps you would like this better? It is heavier."
"I don't want to take one that you are accustomed to carrying yourself, if you have an odd one around you don't use. By the way, didn't you say that my friend Lawrence left a cane here once? I might take that, as he is not likely to call for it immediately."