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Porter arguing that these things indicated deep deceitfulness. She told herself, what was not the case, that she had never trusted that girl. But Lora Delane Porter was not a woman to waste time in retrospection. She had not been in her room five minutes before her mind was made up.
She knew also that she had "climbed" successfully, and that it was Roger's knowledge of the fact, combined with a horrid recklessness which seemed to be growing in him, that made the danger of the situation. Meanwhile Delane stepped out into the fog, which, however, was lifting a little.
Yes! the Yankee had discovered him. His start, his sudden movement as though to make a rush at the window, had shown it. Meanwhile Delane had not waited for developments.
Delane passed his free hand over two of them, and they turned their stately heads and nosed him in a quiet way. Then he vaulted again over the half door, and hurried up the hill, in the gathering darkness. He was aware of the ghost-story.
I was living on a farm, not far from Winnipeg" he named the place. Delane suddenly dropped his pipe, and stooped to pick it up. "All right," he said, "go on." "And there was a man a sort of gentleman his name was Delane on another farm about ten miles from where I was working. People talked of him no end he was a precious bad lot! I never saw him that I know of but I saw his wife twice.
Roger Delane instinctively straightened himself to his full height as he entered his sister's drawing-room. His overcoat, though much worn, was of an expensive make and cut; he carried the Malacca cane which had been his companion in the Brookshire roads; and the eyeglass that he adjusted as he caught sight of his sister completed the general effect of shabby fashion.
And there's an old fellow in Ipscombe now that declares he's seen him, only t'ther day." Delane lit his pipe, and nonchalantly inquired particulars. Dempsey gave a mocking account of Halsey's story. "He's an old fool! Did you ever hear of a ghost bleedin' before!" The speaker threw back his head and laughed. "That's all rot! Besides, I don't believe in ghosts never did.
He could not bring himself to realize Ruth as one of the great army of cranks preaching and carrying out the gospel of Lora Delane Porter. It seemed so at variance with her character as he had known it. He could not seriously bring himself to believe that she genuinely approved of these absurd restrictions. Yet, apparently she did. He looked into the future. It had a grey and bleak aspect.
'Young man, I have no wish to be hard on a congenital idiot who is not responsible for his actions, but I must insist on an explanation. I understand that you are in charge of the correspondence in this office. Well, during the last week you have three times sent unstamped letters to my fiancee, Miss Vera Delane, Woodlands, Southbourne, Hants. What's the matter with you?
Well, it took me a long time to get to the bottom of it myself. But now I'm well, disillusioned!" He came closer, close to the rail of the cart and the lamp, so that she saw clearly the haggard wreck of what once had been Roger Delane, and the evil triumph in his eyes. "Who stayed the night alone, with Dick Tanner, on his place, when I was safely got rid of?" he said, in a low but clear voice.
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