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<h3>Chapter Seventeen.</h3> <h4>The Tenth Night.</h4> “It might be,” thought Capel, as he dwelt upon the adventure of that night. Katrine had descended to breakfast the next morning, and he fancied she blushed slightly as he pressed her hand; but she looked so frankly in his face that he could not but think that she was ignorant of what had taken place. The days slipped by, and in company, by a private understanding, Capel and the old lawyer searched every article of furniture that could possibly have been made the receptacle of the lost treasure. “I’ll help you, of course, my dear sir,” said the old man, “if you wish it; but I really think we shall do no good.” There had been several talks about breaking up the party, but Capel, as host, had always begged that his companions would stay, urging Mr Girtle to back him up by proposing that there should be no change until the whole of the business of the will was completed so far as the others were concerned. “I shall find my share at last,” Capel said, laughingly. “And besides, I have the house.” One afternoon, when Artis had accompanied the ladies for a drive, and the search was about to be recommenced, Mr Girtle sat down by his little table in the drawing-room and said: “I have a little news for you, Mr Capel.” “What, have you found the clue?” “Not yet,” said the old man, quietly; “but I have found an angel.” “A what?” “An angel. You did not know we had one in this house.” “Indeed, but I did,” cried Capel. “Ah, yes,” said the old man, looking at him thoughtfully; “but I’m afraid we are not thinking of the same.” “Indeed, but we are,” said Capel, warmly. “No one who has seen Miss D’Enghien—” “Could hesitate to say that she is a very handsome woman,” said the old lawyer, “but I was referring to Miss Lawrence.” “A lady for whom I entertain the most profound esteem,” said Capel. “Which will be strengthened, sir, when I tell you that she came to me and made a proposition that—” The old lawyer’s communication was checked by the announcement of a visitor for Mr Capel, and the doctor, Mr Heston, was ushered in. His visit was not productive of much, for he had only to announce that he was more and more sure in his own mind that he was right, the result being that Capel asked him to wait before taking any further steps, and Dr Heston went away rather dissatisfied in his own mind. “If he does not follow up my proposals,” he said to himself, “I shall begin to think that he has some reason of his own for keeping the matter quiet.” The ladies returned directly the doctor had gone, and Artis, in pursuance of his instructions, made himself so agreeable to Capel that he did not leave him alone with the old lawyer, while at dinner and during the evening no opportunity was likely to occur for a private conversation. “I’ll see you directly after breakfast to-morrow morning, Mr Capel,” the old man said. “I should prefer a quiet business chat with you, for the matter is important.” “I should like to have heard it at once,” replied Capel, “but as you will.” Suspicion was very busy in the Dark House in those days, for the butler had found that for several nights past chamber candles had been burned down in the sockets in one of the candlesticks, which candlestick was left in the drawing-room, while a tall candlestick was afterwards taken up to the bedroom. Preenham wanted to know why Mr Capel, “or the young master,” as he termed him, should want to sit up so late, so he watched, and saw that, night after night, he stayed down in the drawing-room for hours. But he found out nothing, only that the cold struck, even through the mat, from the stone floor, and that he was chilly enough, when he went to bed in his pantry, to require a liqueur of brandy to keep off rheumatism and similar attacks. For Capel had remained up after the others had gone, night after night; blaming himself for behaving in an unfair, unmanly spirit, but unable to control the impulse which led him to long for such another adventure as on that special night. But after a long day, night watches grow wearisome to the most ardent lovers, and when, after nine nights spent in expectancy, there was no result—no soft, gliding step heard upon stair or floor, both Capel and Preenham grew weary, and retired to their couches like the rest. It was on the tenth night that Capel, instead of going to bed at once, sat musing over the old lawyer’s words. Then he began thinking of the doctor’s visit, and at last, taking out his watch, he saw it was close upon two. The hour made him think of the night when he had encountered Katrine just at that time, and moved by some impulse, he knew not what, he went to his door, softly opened it, and gazed out on to the gloomy staircase, where all was silent as the grave. No! There was the faint creak of a hinge that had been opened, and, with his heart seeming to stand still, Capel stood in the darkness listening, till, utterly wearied, he was about to close his door, when, so softly that he could hardly distinguish the sweep of the dress, something passed him, going straight to the stairs, and then he could just hear whoever it was descend. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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