Believing that the breezes, though weak below, might have been strong enough at that height to blow it into the turret, and in no hurry to get off the premises, he leisurely climbed up to find it, ascending by the second staircase, crossing the roof, and going to the top of the treacherous turret. The ladder by which he had escaped still stood within it, and beside the ladder he beheld the dim outline of a woman, in a meditative attitude, holding his handkerchief in her hand.
Somerset softly withdrew. When he had reached the ground he looked up. A girlish form was standing at the top of the tower looking over the parapet upon him—possibly not seeing him, for it was dark on the lawn. It was either Miss De Stancy or Paula; one of them had gone there alone for his handkerchief and had remained awhile, pondering on his escape. But which? ‘If I were not a faint-heart I should run all risk and wave my hat or kiss my hand to her, whoever she is,’ he thought. But he did not do either.
So he lingered about silently in the shades, and then thought of strolling to his rooms at Markton. Just at leaving, as he passed under the inhabited wing, whence one or two lights now blinked, he heard a piano, and a voice singing ‘The Mistletoe Bough.’ The song had probably been suggested to the romantic fancy of the singer by her visit to the scene of his captivity.
XI.
The identity of the lady whom he had seen on the tower and afterwards heard singing was established the next day.
‘I have been thinking,’ said Miss Power, on meeting him, ‘that you may require a studio on the premises. If so, the room I showed you yesterday is at your service. If I employ Mr. Havill to compete with you I will offer him a similar one.’
Somerset did not decline; and she added, ‘In the same room you will find the handkerchief that was left on the tower.’
‘Ah, I saw that it was gone. Somebody brought it down?’
‘I did,’ she shyly remarked, looking up for a second under her shady hat-brim.
‘I am much obliged to you.’