conceal themselves would set a light blazing," Murdoch thought. "But if there's mischief at work there's no time to waste."
There was only one thing to do, and he did it, making the best of his way to the spot.
The gate was thrown open, and the door of entrance yielded to his hand. Inside, the darkness was profound, but when he found the passage leading to Haworth' s room he saw that the door was ajar and that the light still burned. On reaching this door he stopped short. There was no need to go in. It was Haworth himself who was in the room Haworth, who lay with arms folded on the table, and his head resting upon them.
Murdoch turned away, and as he did so the man heard him for the first time. He lifted his head and looked round.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
There was no help for it. Murdoch pushed the door open and stood before him.
"Murdoch," he said. "I saw the light, and it brought me up."
Haworth gave him a grudging look.
"Come in," he said.
"Do you want me?" Murdoch asked.
"Aye," he answered, dully, "I think I do."
Murdoch stood and looked at him. He did not sit down. A mysterious sense of embarrassment held him in check.
"What is wrong?" he asked, in a lowered voice. He hardly knew it for his own.
"Wrong?" echoed Haworth. "Naught. I've been taking leave of the place. That's all."
You have been doing what?" said Murdoch.
