to feed!  Well, Mr. Ross, I’m glad the case is over; for over it is, so far as I am concerned.  I suppose that Mr. Trelawny knows his own business; and that now he is well again, he will take it up himself.  Perhaps, however, he will not do anything.  As he seemed to expect something to happen, but did not ask for protection from the police in any way, I take it that he don’t want them to interfere with an eye to punishment.  We’ll be told officially, I suppose, that it was an accident, or sleep-walking, or something of the kind, to satisfy the conscience of our Record Department; and that will be the end.  As for me, I tell you frankly, sir, that it will be the saving of me.  I verily believe I was beginning to get dotty over it all.  There were too many mysteries, that aren’t in my line, for me to be really satisfied as to either facts or the causes of them.  Now I’ll be able to wash my hands of it, and get back to clean, wholesome, criminal work.  Of course, sir, I’ll be glad to know if you ever do light on a cause of any kind.  And I’ll be grateful if you can ever tell me how the man was dragged out of bed when the cat bit him, and who used the knife the second time.  For master Silvio could never have done it by himself.  But there!  I keep thinking of it still.  I must look out and keep a check on myself, or I shall think of it when I have to keep my mind on other things!”

When Margaret returned from her walk, I met her in the hall.  She was still pale and sad; somehow, I had expected to see her radiant after her walk.  The moment she saw me her eyes brightened, and she looked at me keenly.

“You have some good news for me?” she said.  “Is Father better?”

“He is!  Why did you think so?”

“I saw it in your face.  I must go to him at once.”  She was hurrying away when I stopped her.

“He said he would send for you the moment he was dressed.”

“He said he would send for me!” she repeated in amazement.  “Then he is awake again, and conscious?  I had no idea he was so well as that!  O Malcolm!”

She sat down on the nearest chair and began to cry.  I felt overcome myself.  The sight of her joy and emotion, the mention of my own name in such a way and at such a time, the rush of glorious possibilities all coming together, quite unmanned me.  She saw my emotion, and seemed to understand.  She put out her hand.  I held it hard, and kissed it.  Such moments as these, the opportunities of lovers, are gifts of the gods!  Up to this instant, though I knew I loved her, and though I believed she returned my affection, I had had only hope.  Now, however, the self-surrender manifest in her willingness to let me squeeze her hand, the ardour of her pressure in return, and the glorious flush of love in her beautiful, deep, dark eyes as she lifted them to mine, were all the eloquences which the most impatient or exacting lover could expect or demand.