Page:Walpole--portrait of man with red hair.djvu/194

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190
PORTRAIT OF A MAN

candle high and swept the room with it, the sudden shadows playing on the walls, like a troop of dancing scarecrows. "You don't see it anywhere?"

Harkness looked about him, then up. at the face of the chattering clock. Time enough had elapsed. She was safe away by now.

"Very well, then," he said. "I will give you my address. Here is my card."

Young Crispin, who seemed in great agitation and, under this emotion, a new and different human being from anything that Harkness had believed to be possible, took the card, and with the candle moved into the hall.

He turned the key, opened the door, and the night air rushed in blowing the flame.

"I wish you good-night," he said, holding out his hand.

Harkness touched it—it was cold and hard—bowed, said: "I must apologise again for disturbing you. I would only reassure you that it is for the last time."

Both bowed. The door closed, and Harkness was once again in the garden.


III

Jabez was waiting for him. They were both in the shadow; beyond them the lawn was scattered with star-dust mist as though sewn with immortal daisies; the stars above were veiled. The world