He awoke with a confused murmur of voices in his ears. The room was dark save for the firelight; and for a few seconds he fancied that he was still alone. The men whose talk he heard were in another part of the house, and soothed by their babble and barely conscious where he was, he was sinking away again when a harsh word and a touch on his sleeve awoke him. He sprang up, startled and surprised, and saw that Captain Clyne, his face fitfully revealed by the flame, was standing on the other side of the hearth. He was in his riding boots and was splashed to the waist.
His face was paler than usual, and his pose told of fatigue.
“Awake, man, awake!” he repeated. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“No, I—I was dozing,” the chaplain faltered, as he put back his chair.
“Just so,” Clyne answered drily. “I wish I could sleep. Well, listen now. I have been back an hour, and I have read this.” He laid his hand on an object on the table, and Sutton with joy saw that the object was the book which he had left with Mrs. Gilson. “I am sorry,” Clyne continued in a constrained tone, “that I did not read it last evening. I was wrong. But—God help me, I think I am almost mad! Anyway I have read it now, and I credit it, and I think that—she has been harshly treated. And I am here to tell you,” a little more distinctly, “that you can arrange the matter to your satisfaction, sir.”
Sutton stared. “Do you mean,” he said, “that I may arrange for her release?”
“I have settled that,” Clyne answered. “Mr. Hornyold is not at home, but I have seen Mr. Le Fleming, and have given bail for her appearance when required; and here is Le Fleming’s order for her release. I have ordered a postchaise to be ready and it will be at the door in ten minutes.”
“But then—all is done?” the chaplain said.
“Except fetching her back,” Clyne answered. “She must come here. There is nowhere else for her to go. But I leave that to you, since her release is due to you. I have done her an injustice, and done you one too. But God knows,” he continued bitterly, “not without provocation. Nor willingly, nor knowingly.”
“I am sure of that,” the chaplain answered meekly.