ive of the
act of listening. Listening to what?

After an interval, he abruptly addressed me. "Do you call it a quiet
night?" he said.

"As quiet as quiet can be," I replied. "The wind has dropped--and even
the fire doesn't crackle. Perfect stillness indoors and out."

"Out?" he repeated. For a moment he looked at me intently, as if I had
started some new idea in his mind. I asked as lightly as I could if I
had said anything to surprise him. Instead of answering me, he sprang to
his feet with a cry of terror, and left the room.

I hardly knew what to do. It was impossible, unless he returned
immediately to let this extraordinary proceeding pass without notice.
After waiting for a few minutes I rang the bell.

The old butler came in. He looked in blank amazement at the empty chair.
"Where's the master?" he asked.

I could only answer that he had left the table suddenly, without a word
of explanation. "He may perhaps be ill," I added. "As his old servant,
you can do no harm if you go and look for him. Say that I am waiting
here, if he wants me."

The minutes passed slowly and more slowly. I was left alone for so long
a time that I began to feel seriously uneasy. My hand was on the bell
again, when there was a knock at the door. I had expected to see the
butler. It was the groom who entered the room.

"Garthwaite can't come down to you, sir," said the man. "He asks, if you
will please go up to the master on the Belvidere."

The house--extending round three sides of a square--was only two stories
high. The flat roof, accessible through a species of hatchway, and still
surrounded by its sturdy stone parapet, was called "The Belvidere," in
reference as usual to the fine view which it commanded. Fearing I knew
not what, I mounted the ladder which led to the roof. Romayne received
me with a harsh outburst of laughter--that saddest false laughter which
is true trouble in disguise.

"Here's something to amuse you!" he cried. "I believe old Garthwaite
thinks I am drunk--he won't leave me up here by myself."

Letting this strange assertion remain unanswered, the butler withdrew.
As he passed me on his way to the ladder, he whispered: "Be careful of
the master! I tell you, sir, he has a bee in his bonnet this night."

Although not of the north country myself, I knew the meaning of the
phrase. Garthwaite suspected that the master was nothing less than mad!

Romayne took my arm when we were alone--we walked slowly from