The following morning, Mr. Henley was puzzled, in thinking over the
conversation of the previous night, to remember that he had not been
alarmed at the revelations which Ah Ben had made. The things he had
seen and the words he had heard were amazing, but they had not
terrified him; and when he recalled the easy and natural manner in
which he had talked, he attributed the fact to the same mental change
whereby he had perceived the visions.
The breakfast room was deserted, neither Dorothy nor Ah Ben being
present; and so Paul partook of the meal alone, which he found
prepared as usual. He lingered over his second cup of tea in the hope
that the young lady would join him; but after loitering quite beyond
the usual hour, he sauntered out into the garden, trusting to find
her there. But Dorothy was nowhere to be seen, and Henley sank
dejectedly into the old rustic bench to await her coming.
An hour passed, but no token of a human being was in evidence; not
even the voice nor the footstep of a servant had been heard, and Paul
sat consuming cigarettes at a rate that showed clearly his
impatience. At last he returned to the house, and going to his room
took pen and paper and wrote, in a large hand: Will Miss Guir kindly let me know at what hour I may see her?
I shall await her answer in the garden.
PAUL HENLEY.
Not being able to find a servant, he took this downstairs and
suspended it from the hanging lamp by a thread, and then returned to
the garden to tramp up and down the neglected paths, between the
boxwood bushes, and to burn more cigarettes. He had not the slightest
hope of finding Ah Ben, as that individual never put in an appearance
until the day was far spent--in fact, not generally until after the
shadows of evening were well advanced; and the only servant he had
seen was the dumb boy alluded to, and even he had only appeared
occasionally. Clearly there was nothing to do but wait. But waiting
brought neither Dorothy nor Ah Ben, and Paul began to wonder
seriously where his hosts could have taken themselves. The time wore
on, and the shadow of a tall fir showed that the hour of noon had
passed. Had he been left in sole possession of this old mansion,
whose history was so amazing, and yet whose very existence appeared
mythical? He wandered back into the house, and passing through the
hall, stopped suddenly. His note was gone. Surely it had been taken,
for it could not have fallen. Examining the lamp, Henley saw that a
short end of the thread was hanging, indicating that it had been
broken and the note carried away. Some one had passed through the
building since he had left it. Could it have been the girl? and if
so, why had she avoided him? One thing appeared certain; she would
know where to expect his letters, and he would now write another. In
twenty minutes he had prepared the following, which, having sealed,
he again suspended from the lamp in the hall: DEAREST GIRL--I have waited all the morning to see you, and am
growing fearfully impatient. Is it business or pleasure that keeps
you away? Why not tell me frankly just what it is, as I can not
bear to think that I am avoided from indifference, or because you
are getting tired of me. Have I outstayed my welcome at Guir House?
I entreat you to give me an answer and an interview, as I am so
lonely without you; just how lonely I will tell you when we meet.