The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English
General
The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English
Detective and mystery stories, English; Fiction; Short stories
When I raised it again to look about me, I was aware of a light in the
pavilion. It was not stationary; but passed from one window to another, as
though some one were reviewing the different apartments with a lamp or
candle. I watched it for some seconds in great surprise. When I had
arrived in the afternoon the house had been plainly deserted; now it was
as plainly occupied. It was my first idea that a gang of thieves might
have broken in and be now ransacking Northmour's cupboards, which were
many and not ill supplied. But what should bring thieves at Graden Easter?
And, again, all the shutters had been thrown open, and it would have been
more in the character of such gentry to close them. I dismissed the
notion, and fell back upon another. Northmour himself must have arrived,
and was now airing and inspecting the pavilion.
I have said that there was no real affection between this man and me; but,
had I loved him like a brother, I was then so much more in love with
solitude that I should none the less have shunned his company. As it was,
I turned and ran for it; and it was with genuine satisfaction that I found
myself safely back beside the fire. I had escaped an acquaintance; I
should have one more night in comfort. In the morning, I might either slip
away before Northmour was abroad, or pay him as short a visit as I chose.
But when morning came, I thought the situation so diverting that I forgot
my shyness. Northmour was at my mercy; I arranged a good practical jest,
though I knew well that my neighbor was not the man to jest with in
security; and, chuckling beforehand over its success, took my place among
the elders at the edge of the wood, whence I could command the door of the
pavilion. The shutters were all once more closed, which I remember
thinking odd; and the house, with its white walls and green venetians,
looked spruce and habitable in the morning light. Hour after hour passed,
and still no sign of Northmour. I knew him for a sluggard in the morning;
but, as it drew on toward noon, I lost my patience. To say the truth, I
had promised myself to break my fast in the pavilion, and hunger began to
prick me sharply. It was a pity to let the opportunity go by without some
cause for mirth; but the grosser appetite prevailed, and I relinquished my
jest with regret, and sallied from the wood.
The appearance of the house affected me, as I drew near, with disquietude.
It seemed unchanged since last evening; and I had expected it, I scarce
knew why, to wear some external signs of habitation. But no: the windows
were all closely shuttered, the chimneys breathed no smoke, and the front
door itself was closely padlocked. Northmour, therefore, had entered by
the back; this was the natural, and indeed, the necessary conclusion; and
you may judge of my surprise when, on turning the house, I found the back
door similarly secured.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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