When the hard ride had brought warmth to his blood and a glow to his cheeks, he told himself he had been the victim of fancy. It was nothing; it was a delusion of the sight; a mere shadow cast off by his distempered brain. He was passing at a walking pace through Laxey by this time, and as the horse's feet beat up the echoes of the sleeping town, his heart grew brave. Next day, at noon, he was talking with his servant, Jem-y-Lord, in his rooms in Athol Street. He had lately become tenant of the entire house. They were in his old chambers on the first floor, looking on to the churchyard. “I may rely on you, Jemmy?” “You may, Deemster.” His voice was low and husky, his eyes were down, he was fumbling the papers on the table. “Get the carriage, a landau, from Shimmin's, but drive it yourself. Be at Government offices at four--we'll go by St. John's. If there is any attempt at Ramsey to take the horse out of the carriage, resist it. I will alight at the head of the town. Then drive on to the lane between the chapel and Elm Cottage. The moment the lady joins you, start away. Return to Laxey--are the rooms upstairs ready?” “They will be.” “The two in front of your own, and the little parlour behind this. We shall need no other servants--the lady will be housekeeper.” “I quite understand, Deemster.” Philip turned his face aside and spoke thickly, “And you know what name----” “I know what name, Deemster.” “You have no objection?” “None whatever, Deemster.” Phillip drew a long breath. “I am not Deemster yet, Jemmy. Perhaps it might have been... but God knows. You are a good fellow--I shall not forget it.” He made a motion as if to dismiss the man, but Jemmy did not go. “Beg pardon, your honor--” “Yes?” “Your honour has eaten nothing at breakfast--and the bed wasn't slept in last night.” “I was riding late--then I had work to do.” “But I heard your foot on the floor---it woke me times.” “I may have speeches to make to-day.... Fetch me a glass of water.” Jemmy brought water-bottle and glass. As Philip took the water an icy numbness seemed to seize his arm. “I--well, I--I declare I can't lift--ah! thanks.” The man raised Philip's arm to his mouth; the glass rattled against his teeth while he drank. “Pardon, your honour. You're looking ten years older lately. The sooner this day is over the better.” “Sleep, Jemmy--I only want sleep. I must have a long, long sleep at Ballure to-night.”