Walking to the window, he drew up the blinds and looked round the room again. He was near the dressing-table, and picked up one article after another. He did not look for a letter, a brief note; he would not have found one had he done so. She had gone, left him desolate without one parting word.
Still in a dazed condition, and not fully realising his loss, he went out of the room, closing the door after him, and stumbled downstairs.
Mrs. Marley, his housekeeper, heard him, and came into the room,
"Is Janet ill?" she asked, in a tone of concern.
"Yes," he replied, in a hollow voice. "I will take her breakfast upstairs."
"I can take it myself," she replied.
"No; please let me do it."
"Very well, but you spoil her, Mr. Todd; it is not good for her," said Mrs. Marley.
He laughed strangely, and she looked at him in surprise. He took the tray upstairs, placed it on the table at the bedside, and locked the door as he came out, putting the key in his pocket. Why he did this he failed to understand, except that he wanted time to think.
He was going over again everything that happened that terrible night. He had considered it many times, and he would not lay the guilt at Ulick's door; no, not even after two years of grave suspicion, which had not yet been removed. He once more saw the door open and Ulick Maynard come in out of the snowy night. He heard the startled cry Janet gave as she sprang from her chair, and her exclamation, "Mr. Ulick, what are you doing here?" rang in his ears.