“Let it alone,” he said. “I’ll go down through the chapel; there’s a lantern in there somewhere.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” she remarked; “but I recently lost my best lantern!”
To be sure she had! I was angry that she should so brazenly recall the night I found her looking for Pickering’s notes in the passage at the Door of Bewilderment!
She had lifted the lantern now, and I was striving to touch the wax taper to the wick, with imminent danger to my bare fingers.
“They don’t really light well when the oil’s out,” she observed, with an exasperating air of wisdom.
I took it from her hand and shook it close to my ear.
“Yes; of course, it’s empty,” I muttered disdainfully.
“Oh, Mr. Glenarm!” she cried, turning away toward my grandfather.
I heard his stick beating the rough path several yards away. He was hastening toward Glenarm House.
“I think Mr. Glenarm has gone home.”