“Did he see you?”
“Yes. He said, ‘Come down and speak to me! I have something serious to say to you!’”
“Did you answer him?”
“As soon as I could catch my breath, I said, ‘Wait a little,’ and ran downstairs to you. What shall I do?”
“Let me see him, and I will tell you.”
We entered her room. Keeping cautiously behind the window-curtain, I looked out.
There he was! His beard and mustache were shaved off; his hair was close cut. But there was no disguising his wild, brown eyes, or the peculiar movement of his spare, wiry figure, as he walked slowly to and fro in the moonlight waiting for Naomi. For the moment, my own agitation almost overpowered me; I had so firmly disbelieved that John Jago was a living man!
“What shall I do?” Naomi repeated.
“Is the door of the dairy open?” I asked.
“No; but the door of the tool-house, round the corner, is not locked.”