As I returned across the yard, Woodville, who still was taking his rest under the open canopy of heaven, sat up.  Seemingly my approach had roused him out of slumber.  At sight of me he rubbed his eyes, and yawned, and blinked.

‘I say,’ he remarked, not at all unreasonably, ‘where am I?’

’You’re on holy—­or on haunted ground,—­hang me if I quite know which!—­but that’s where you are, my boy.’

’By Jove!—­I am feeling queer!—­I have got a headache, don’t you know.’

’I shouldn’t be in the least surprised at anything you have, or haven’t,—­I’m beyond surprise.  It’s a drop of whisky you are wanting,—­and what I’m wanting too,—­only, for goodness sake, drop me none of your drops!  Mine is a case for a bottle at the least.’

I put my arm through his, and went with him into the laboratory.  And, when we were in, I shut, and locked, and barred the door.

CHAPTER XIX

THE LADY RAGES

Dora Grayling stood in the doorway.

’I told your servant he need not trouble to show me in,—­and I’ve come without my aunt.  I hope I’m not intruding.’

She was—­confoundedly; and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell her so.  She came into the room, with twinkling eyes, looking radiantly happy,—­that sort of look which makes even a plain young woman prepossessing.

‘Am I intruding?—­I believe I am.’

She held out her hand, while she was still a dozen feet away, and when I did not at once dash forward to make a clutch at it, she shook her head and made a little mouth at me.

‘What’s the matter with you?—­Aren’t you well?’

I was not well,—­I was very far from well.  I was as unwell as I could be without being positively ill, and any person of common discernment would have perceived it at a glance.  At the same time I was not going to admit anything of the kind to her.

‘Thank you,—­I am perfectly well.’

’Then, if I were you, I would endeavour to become imperfectly well; a little imperfection in that direction might make you appear to more advantage.’

’I am afraid that that I am not one of those persons who ever do appear to much advantage,—­did I not tell you so last night?’

’I believe you did say something of the kind,—­it’s very good of you to remember.  Have you forgotten something else which you said to me last night?’

’You can hardly expect me to keep fresh in my memory all the follies of which my tongue is guilty.’

‘Thank you.—­That is quite enough.—­Good-day.’

She turned as if to go.

‘Miss Grayling!’

‘Mr Atherton?’

‘What’s the matter?—­What have I been saying now?’

’Last night you invited me to come and see you this morning,—­is that one of the follies of which your tongue was guilty?’

The engagement had escaped my recollection—­it is a fact—­and my face betrayed me.