in its central gable watched Barney like an eye.
He came out on the steps in his dressing gown, to show himself, and cautiously semaphored with his right arm, raising it stiffly over his head. After a moment, he saw something white drop over the window sill and hang fluttering. It was their signal that they saw him.
He was to raise both arms if he had located Whately.
He hesitated.
He turned back to the house.
After all, there was no need of haste. Whately was not going to run away.
His bath slippers made his footstep noiseless as he approached the door. He heard her say, in a low broken utterance: “I could n’t help thinking of you dear, just like that, somewhere—all blood—in handcuffs—running all night. It ’s terrible! I can’t bear it. You must—”
“But, dearest,” he protested, under his
