After dinner they sat for twenty minutes together before the library fire, their toes upon the fender, for, contrary to her habit, Miriam had not vanished at once to her own quarters.

“We’re not alone here,” remarked Spinrobin presently, in a low voice, and she nodded her head to signify agreement.  The presence of Mr. Skale when he was in the house but invisible, was often more real and tremendous than when he stood beside them and thundered.  Some part of him, some emanation, some potent psychic messenger from his personality, kept them closely company, and tonight the secretary felt it very vividly.  His remark was really another effort to keep in close touch with Miriam, even in thought.  He needed her more than ever in this sea of silence that was gathering everywhere about him.  Gulf upon gulf it rose and folded over him.  His anxiety became every moment more acute, and those black serpents of fear that he dreaded were not very far away.  By every fiber in his being he felt certain that a test which should shake the very foundations of his psychical life was slowly and remorselessly approaching him.

Yet, though he longed to speak outright and demand of Miriam what she knew, and especially that she should reveal the place of the clergyman’s concealment and what portent it was that required all this dread and muted atmosphere for its preparation, he kept a seal upon his lips, realizing that loyalty forbade, and that the knowledge of her contempt would be even worse than the knowledge of the truth.

And so in due course she rose to go, and as he opened the door for her into the hall, she paused a moment and turned towards him.  A sudden inexplicable thrill flashed through him as she turned her eyes upon his face, for he thought at first she was about to speak.  He has never forgotten the picture as she stood there so close to his side, the lamplight on her slim figure in its white silk blouse and neat dark skirt, the gloom of the unlit hall and staircase beyond—­stood there an instant, then put both her arms about his neck, drew him down to her, and kissed him gently on both cheeks.  Twice she kissed him, then was gone into the darkness, so softly that he scarcely heard her steps, and he stood between the shadows and the light, her perfume still lingering, and with it the sweet and magical blessing that she left behind.  For that caress, he understood, was the innocent childlike caress of their first days, and with all the power of her loving little soul in it she had given him the message that he craved:  “Courage!  And keep a brave heart, dear Spinny, tonight!”

Chapter VIII

I

Spinrobin lingered a while in the library after Miriam was gone, then feeling slightly ill at ease in the room now that her presence was withdrawn, put the lights out, saw that the windows were properly barred and fastened, and went into the hall on his way to bed.