Page:Pan's Garden.djvu/261

 short the man was, now that he saw him standing. Broad and powerful too. Henriot looked down upon his thick head of hair. The personality and voice repelled him. Possibly his face, caught unawares, betrayed this.

'Forgive my startling you,' said the other apologetically, while the softer expression danced in for a moment and disorganised the rigid set of the face. 'The soft carpet, you know. I'm afraid you didn't hear my tread. I wondered'⁠—he smiled again slightly at the nature of the request⁠—'if⁠—by any chance⁠—you had a pocket compass you could lend me?'

'Ah, a compass, yes! Please don't apologise. I believe I have one⁠—if you'll wait a moment. Come in, won't you? I'll have a look.'

The other thanked him but waited in the passage. Henriot, it so happened, had a compass, and produced it after a moment's search.

'I am greatly indebted to you⁠—if I may return it in the morning. You will forgive my disturbing you at such an hour. My own is broken, and I wanted⁠—er⁠—to find the true north.'

Henriot stammered some reply, and the man was gone. It was all over in a minute. He locked his door and sat down in his chair to think. The little incident had upset him, though for the life of him he could not imagine why. It ought by rights to have been almost ludicrous, yet instead it was the exact reverse⁠—half threatening. Why should not a man want a compass? But, again, why should he? And at midnight? The voice, the eyes, the near presence⁠—what did they bring that set his nerves thus asking unusual questions? This strange impression that something grave was happening, something