Picking up his stick, he cautiously opened the door and peered out. He saw a man, muffled up; standing a yard or two away. Something about the figure seemed familiar to him, and a peculiar sensation passed through his body, making his pulses tingle with anticipation.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" he asked.
The studmaster started back, exclaiming—
"My God, it's Mr. Ulick!"
"Yes, it's me, none other; may I come in?"
For answer Eli dropped his stick, took him by both hands, and dragged him into the box.
Ulick Maynard unbuttoned his coat and unwound the scarf around his neck. He was a tall, handsome man, with a clear, open countenance. It was the face of a man to be trusted, if ever there was one.
"I am glad to see you, but it's a strange time to come," said Eli. "Are you going up to the house?"
"No," was the emphatic reply. "I shall never go back to Hazelwell until my father asks my pardon for the insult he put upon me."