"Ay, no doubt of it."
"Then," thought Cheyne, "I shall not have long to wait."
CHAPTER XII.
[THE DUKE'S WEATHER.]
That night Cheyne slept heavily. The journey and the change of air had helped to deepen his slumbers. Then there had been the exhausting excitement of the day he had just passed. It was near nine o'clock when he opened his eyes. For awhile he lay awake, unable to recall the events which had brought him to this strange place.
"The sea," he thought--"is that the rolling of the sea? Have I gone to Brighton or to Margate in my sleep?"
He jumped out of bed, and approached the window. Before he had crossed the floor he remembered all. This was Bankleigh, whither he had come for the purpose of settling affairs with the Marquis of Southwold, and this roaring sound abroad was not the beating of the sea upon the shore, but the headlong flight of the wind across the land.
How did the wind blow?
He pulled up the blind, and looked out. The wind beat at an acute angle against his window; but as he did not know how the house faced, he could not tell from what quarter the wind blew. He rang the bell.
When the waiter entered, he asked abruptly: