He stood looking after the cab till it vanished round a corner, then he went back to the theatre for his hat and coat, and set off again down the road.
He was not conscious of any real emotion; but he walked swiftly as a man does who has a set purpose, and he did not stop till he found himself outside the Ashtons’ house.
It was not far off midnight, but lights burned in many of the windows, and after a swift glance at the face of the house he went up the steps and rang the bell.
It was some moments before the door was opened by 177 a mildly amazed-looking servant; Micky asked for Mr. Ashton.
“My name is Mellowes,” he said, as she obviously hesitated. “If you tell him my name he will see me. I know he is in, I saw him at the Comedy Theatre to-night.”
He stepped past the girl into the hall, and after a slightly scared glance at him she shut the door and departed upstairs.
A moment later Micky heard Ashton’s voice.
“You old night-bird! What an ungodly hour to call on any one! I was just going to bed; come in.”
He spoke easily, but there was a slightly anxious look in his eyes; he led the way into the library.
The fire was nearly out there and the room felt chilly; he shivered, and, stooping, tried to rake the cinders into a blaze.