“I have a good mind to give you your coup de grâce?” returned Haldane, with a little less composure than before. “Why, I could strangle you if I pleased.”
“Strangle me, then!”
“Bah! you are not worth the trouble,” said the other, throwing him off. “Tell me, again, where are your police officers? Why did you not bring them?”
Utterly conquered and helpless, Santley did not reply. Haldane pointed to the door.
“At any rate, get out of this. I am going to close my studies and go to bed.”
And he proceeded to turn down the lamp, previous to blowing it out.
Santley moved towards the door. As he did so, the lamp was extinguished, and the chapel left in pitch darkness. He groped his way out, and stood waiting on the threshold. The philosopher followed, and they stood together in the open darkness. Then Haldane closed the door and turned the key.
“Your way lies yonder, reverend sir,” he said, pointing towards the avenue. “Take my advice and sleep upon it, before you return to arrest me. I will keep your secret, if you will keep mine.”
“I will make no terms with you,” cried the vicar. “I will return, and have you dragged to justice.”
“As you please,” was the reply. Haldane walked slowly in the direction of the house. Santley, after a minute’s wild hesitation, rushed away again into the night.