O Derracott, sunk in his extreme dejection, time had passed like a bird on the wing, and he was already within eyeshot of his house. But now the passage of those footsteps in his wake roused in him a certain vague wonder. He realised that they had seemed to pursue him for some time down the solitary streets; and a little beyond his doorway he halted in the darkness, and turning, awaited curiously the approach of his follower. From his post he saw a figure in the full glory of evening dress pierce the darkness, move sharply into the lamplight, and run briskly up the steps of his own portico. Struck with an amazed alarm, he watched the man insert a pass-key in the lock, and, opening the door, vanish without a sound into the region beyond. The door clicked behind the invader, and Derracott was left staring at the black fanlight. The street-lamp shone upon the desolate area and the vacant wall, but still he stood without a movement on the pavement; until at length his startled heart stirred slowly, and the blood flowed down the arteries once more. With a quick breath of alarm he took a step towards the portico, stopped suddenly, and gazed up at the blind windows of the upper stories. Then with a palsied hand he drew a cigarette from his pocket, stuck it between his lips unlit, and, crossing the way, put his elbow on the rails of the square, and fell into the most tragic reflections.
This then was to be his welcome from a journey so dismal, and in a mood so desperate. Had he come upon the morrow, as he had anticipated, this house had been smiling for him, his wife bright with a false radiance, and all the consolations of home eloquent of hope and comfort. Sick at heart from his fruitless mission, he would have entered upon this rest at the invitation of a score of specious pleasures. But as it was, the miscalculation of one day had sufficed to rob him of this decent refuge; and plunged upon debt embittered with failure, there was now no longer, as it seemed, love to forgive him, neither faith nor courage to inspire and strengthen. And yet of her at least he had been certain, though his world else was rumbling in his ears. His gaze besieged the house as though to tear the walls asunder and peer into its shameful secrets. His blood ran now at a charge, and his fingers quivered upon his cigarette. He cast it from him, and walking precipitately across the road marched up the steps with a thumping heart. As he closed the door the dark silence of the hall dropped like a cloak upon him, and insensibly subdued his actions. His feet made no sound upon the heavy carpet: in his own house he stole with the air and cunning of a thief. Some faculty of restraint had come to his trembling summons, and his breath issued sedately, his pulse fluttered in measured beats, his eyes and ears waited in the silence and the darkness. At the top of the first flight he stopped a moment before his wife's drawing-room, rapped gently with his knuckles, and opened the door slowly.
The room glowed in a soft red light, which illuminated also two stricken faces in the background. The man had risen to his feet and clutched the back of a high chair, his eyes set hard upon the incomer. But it was upon the woman that Derracott's glance fell first. She kept her seat, crouched in the hollow of a large armchair, her face rigid to her lips, her chin twitching to her short breaths, her eyes wild and staring. Mortal terror never sat upon features so spectral; meaningless noises issued from her mouth. Derracott, his cheeks blanched, his muscles strung as upon wires, stepped into the room, and upon this company.
'I have surprised you, my dear,' he said quietly. 'Ah, Harland!' and he nodded to the man.
The woman gave him no answer, but Harland lifted his hand from the chair, sank into a seat, and laughed with uneasy harshness.
'Yes,' he returned, 'I'm afraid Mrs. Derracott is startled. She I'd no notion you were away, and looked in a few minutes ago to see if you'd give me a game.'
'I saved a day and so I'm here,' explained Derracott, He stood before the fire and warmed his hands, his white face stooped to the blaze. Strange little sounds drummed in his head, but his fingers spread from his palms without a shiver. The woman recovered herself with a short indrawn gasp, rose and moved uncertainly towards him.
'Why, Teddy,' said she tremulously, 'you have given me a—a start. But you've got your coat on'and she laid a hand upon his shoulder.
He turned about, but his eye avoided her.
'Ah,' said he, 'I was going to ask you whether you would allow me to disrobe in your boudoir.'
She laughed hysterically.
'Teddy! of course!' she cried, and fetched up in a spasm of silence.