Midwinter suddenly started to his feet, and opened the door.
“We’ll talk of this to-morrow,” he said. “Good-night.”
Allan looked round in astonishment. The door was closed again, and he was alone in the room.
“He has never shaken hands with me!” exclaimed Allan, looking bewildered at the empty chair.
As the words passed his lips the door opened, and Midwinter appeared again.
“We haven’t shaken hands,” he said, abruptly. “God bless you, Allan! We’ll talk of it to-morrow. Good-night.”
Allan stood alone at the window, looking out at the pouring rain. He felt ill at ease, without knowing why. “Midwinter’s ways get stranger and stranger,” he thought. “What can he mean by putting me off till to-morrow, when I wanted to speak to him to-night?” He took up his bedroom candle a little impatiently, put it down again, and, walking back to the open window, stood looking out in the direction of the cottage. “I wonder if she’s thinking of me?” he said to himself softly.
She was thinking of him. She had just opened her desk to write to Mrs. Oldershaw; and her pen had that moment traced the opening line: “Make your mind easy. I have got him!”
XIII. EXIT.
It rained all through the night, and when the morning came it was raining still.