‘Because I keep your secret of the letter abusing Miss P., and of the pilfered tracing you carry in your pocket.’
‘It is quite true,’ said Havill.
They went to bed again. Dare was soon asleep; but Havill did not attempt to disturb him again. The elder man slept but fitfully. He was aroused in the morning by a heavy rumbling and jingling along the highway overlooked by the window, the front wall of the house being shaken by the reverberation.
‘There is no rest for me here,’ he said, rising and going to the window, carefully avoiding the neighbourhood of Mr. Dare. When Havill had glanced out he returned to dress himself.
‘What’s that noise?’ said Dare, awakened by the same rumble.
‘It is the Artillery going away.’
‘From where?’
‘Markton barracks.’
‘Hurrah!’ said Dare, jumping up in bed. ‘I have been waiting for that these six weeks.’
Havill did not ask questions as to the meaning of this unexpected remark.