ng in my body, hour after hour--hour after hour. I prayed
as I have seldom prayed. I wept as I have never wept. I railed and
blasphemed--not with my lips, because the woman must think I was
asleep--but so much the more viciously in my heart.

Suddenly it turned dark. There were no gradations--not even a tropical
twilight. One minute I aw the sun upon the blind; the next--thank God!
Oh, thank God! No light broke any longer through the blind; just a faint
and narrow glimmer stole between it and the casement; and the light that
had been bright golden was palest silver now.

It was the moon. I had been in dreamless sleep for hours.

The joy of that discovery! The transport of waking to it, and waking
refreshed! The swift and sudden miracle that it seemed! I shall never,
never forget it, still less the sickening thrill of fear which was
cruelly quick to follow upon my joy. The cottage was still as the tomb.
What if I had slept too long!

With trembling hand I found my watch.

Luckily I had wound it in the early morning. I now carried it to the
window, drew back the blind, and held it in the moonlight. It was not
quite ten o'clock. And yet the cottage was so still--so still.

I stole to the door, opened it by cautious degrees, and saw the
reflection of a light below. Still not a sound could I hear, save the
rapid drawing of my own breath, and the startled beating of my own
heart.

I now felt certain that the Braithwaites were out, and dressed hastily,
making as little noise as possible, and still hearing absolutely none
from below. Then, feeling faint with hunger, though a new being after my
sleep, I remembered a packet of sandwiches which I had not opened on my
journey north. These I transferred from my travelling-bag (where they
had lain forgotten to my jacket pocket), before drawing down the blind,
leaving the room on tip-toe, and very gently fastening the door behind
me. On the stairs, too, I trod with the utmost caution, feeling the wall
with my left hand (my right was full), lest by any chance I might
be mistaken in supposing I had the cottage to myself. In spite of my
caution there came a creak at every step. And to my sudden horror I
heard a chair move in the kitchen below.

My heart and I stood still together. But my right hand tightened on
stout wood, my right forefinger trembled against thin steel. The sound
was not repeated. And at length I continued on my way down, my teeth
set, an excuse on my lips, but