Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/199

Rh “though, for my part,” he added, as he and Tremaine went on through the hall together, “I prefer a book before the fire. There’s a chill in the air that strikes through one after a while, and Jack’ll soon get enough of it. But I’d better go up and see how my wife’s getting along. You’ll excuse me?”

“Certainly—and stay as long as you like. I’m going to my room presently, myself—I have some letters to write.”

Delroy nodded and went on up the stair. Tremaine sank into one of the chairs before the fire and watched the blazing logs, with an expression intent, alert, as though he were waiting for someone.

A door opened and closed, a light step crossed the hall, a hand was laid upon the chair-back…

“Oh,” said Miss Croydon, “I thought—where is Mr. Drysdale?”

Tremaine arose slowly.

“Drysdale,” he said, with a meaning look which did not escape her. “was unable to resist the charms of the evening. He has gone for a walk. He said he would not be back for a couple of hours. Please sit down.”

It was more of a command than an invitation, and she yielded to it reluctantly.

“I can stay but a moment,” she said. “Edith is not at all well and needs me. Why are you waiting here?”

He pulled a chair close beside her. “I was waiting for you,” he said calmly. “I don’t think you quite realise yet that I am in earnest.”

“To be in earnest would be infamous.”