"Come along, Dreever," he said. "You can come and sit out with me. We'll go and smoke on the terrace."
They left the room together.
"What does the old boy want?" inquired his lordship. "Are you and Miss McEachern—?"
"We are," said Jimmy.
"By Jove, I say, old chap! Million congratulations, and all that sort of rot, you know!"
"Thanks," said Jimmy. "Have a cigarette?"
His lordship had to resume his duties in the ballroom after awhile; but Jimmy sat on, smoking and thinking. The night was very still. Now and then, a sparrow would rustle in the ivy on the castle wall, and somewhere in the distance a dog was barking. The music had begun again in the ball-room. It sounded faint and thin where he sat.
In the general stillness, the opening of the door at the top of the steps came sharply to his ears. He looked up. Two figures were silhouetted for a moment against the light, and then the door closed again. They began to move slowly down the steps.
Jimmy had recognized them. He got up. He was in the shadow. They could not see him. They began to walk down the terrace. They were quite close now. Neither was speaking; but, presently when they were but a few feet away, they stopped. There was the splutter of a match, and McEachern lighted a cigar. In the yellow light, his face was clearly visible. Jimmy looked, and was content.
He edged softly toward the shrubbery at the end of the terrace, and, entering it without a sound, began to make his way back to the house.