Chapter 13 - Page 2

sure that if he
does only half what he talks of doing, they will make him a peer--Lord
Tamfield, perhaps--and then, of course, I shall be my Lady Tamfield, and
what would you think of that, Bob?" She dropped him a stately curtsey,
and tossed her head in the air, as one who was born to wear a coronet.

"Father must be pensioned off," she remarked presently. "He shall have
so much a year on condition that he keeps away. As to you, Bob, I don't
know what we shall do for you. We shall make you President of the Royal
Academy if money can do it."

It was late before they ceased building their air-castles and retired to
their rooms. But Robert's brain was excited, and he could not sleep.
The events of the day had been enough to shake a stronger man. There
had been the revelation of the morning, the strange sights which he had
witnessed in the laboratory, and the immense secret which had been
confided to his keeping. Then there had been his conversation with his
father in the afternoon, their disagreement, and the sudden intrusion of
Raffles Haw. Finally the talk with his sister had excited his
imagination, and driven sleep from his eyelids. In vain he turned and
twisted in his bed, or paced the floor of his chamber. He was not
only awake, but abnormally awake, with every nerve highly strung, and
every sense at the keenest. What was he to do to gain a little sleep?
It flashed across him that there was brandy in the decanter downstairs,
and that a glass might act as a sedative.

He had opened the door of his room, when suddenly his ear caught the
sound of slow and stealthy footsteps upon the stairs. His own lamp was
unlit, but a dim glimmer came from a moving taper, and a long black
shadow travelled down the wall. He stood motionless, listening
intently. The steps were in the hall now, and he heard a gentle
creaking as the key was cautiously turned in the door. The next instant
there came a gust of cold air, the taper was extinguished, and a sharp
snap announced that the door had been closed from without.

Robert stood astonished. Who could this night wanderer be? It must be
his father. But what errand could take him out at three in the morning?
And such a morning, too! With every blast of the wind the rain beat up
against his chamber-window as though it would drive it in. The glass
rattled in the frames, and the tree outside creaked and groaned as its
great branches were tossed about by the gale. What could draw any man
forth upon such a night?

Hurriedly Robert struck a match and lit his lamp. His father's room was
opposite his own, and the door was ajar. He pushed it open and looked
about him. It was empty. The bed had not even been lain upon.
The single chair stood