"Very good, sir."
"I shall be late in the morning. I have suffered from insomnia very badly the last few nights, but now I know I shall sleep. Don't wake me. Let me have my sleep out."
"Very good, sir."
Derwent went up to his room, undressed quickly, jumped into bed, and lay there until he heard the butler pass along the corridor. Then he rose and dressed hastily.
"CLINGING TO THE LEDGE OF THE WINDOW-SILL, HE CLOSED THE WINDOW AFTER HIM."
"They will be able to swear that I was home, and that my bed was slept in," he said. He dressed in a rough, negligent style, unlike the extreme order which he had observed since his return to England.
He opened the window and looked out. The wind rushed in and blew down the heavy looking-glass, cracking it across.
"That," he said, "is unlucky. Some men would turn back at the omen. I never was one to believe in omens. I never was a man to turn back."
A pipe ran close to his window. By it the way to the ground was easy. Outside, clinging to the ledge of the window-sill with one hand, he closed the window after him. Then he slid down the pipe, and walked rapidly to the Rectory.