seven hours—that's half-past four. Now will you let us go home?"
"I'll see you home," said the stranger in a quite new tone of exasperating gentleness. "Come—let's be going."
"You don't believe us," said Gerald. "Of course you don’t. Nobody could. But I could make you believe if I chose."
All three stood up, and the stranger stared in Gerald's eyes till Gerald answered his thought.
"No, I don't look mad, do I?"
"No, you aren't. But, come, you're an extraordinarily sensible boy; don't you think you may be sickening for a fever or something?"
"And Cathy and Jimmy and Mademoiselle and Eliza, and the man who said 'Guy Fawkes, swelp me!' and you, you saw them move—you heard them call out. Are you sickening for anything?"
"No—or at least not for anything but information. Come, and I'll see you home."
"Mabel lives at the Towers," said Gerald, as the stranger turned into the broad drive that leads to the big gate.
"No relation to Lord Yalding," said Mabel hastily—"housekeeper's niece." She was holding on to his hand all the way. At the servants entrance she put up her face to be kissed, and went in.
"Poor little thing!" said the bailiff, as they went down the drive towards the gate.
He went with Gerald to the door of the school.
