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It was the first really sane moment he had had since the 'change. Whatever it was that had happened at Widderstone was now distinctly weakening in effect. Why, now, perhaps? He stole a thievish look over his shoulder at the glass, and cautiously drew finger and thumb down that beaked nose.
'Buried in Widderstone? The keen childlike blue eyes looked almost stealthily up across the book; the old man sat without speaking, so still that it might even be supposed he himself was listening for a quiet distant footfall. 'He is buried in the grave beside which I fell asleep, said Lawford; 'all green and still and broken, he added faintly.
And even now you have not answered surely a very natural question. You do not recollect, perhaps, exactly what did happen last night? Did you go in the direction even of Widderstone? 'Yes, Sheila, I went to Widderstone.
When a scamp's a scamp, he'll stop at nothing. I could tell you some tales. 'Ah, but that's not all, said Sheila, eyeing them steadfastly one by one. 'We all of us know that my husband's story was that he had gone down to Widderstone into the churchyard, for his convalescent ramble; that story's true.
I thought at first it was merely an affectation that what you said was an affectation, I mean until well, to be frank, it was the "this" that so immensely interested me. Especially, he added almost with a touch of gaiety, 'especially the last glimpse. But if it's really not a forbidden question, what precisely was the other? What precise manner of man, I mean, came down into Widderstone?
She had known me for years, though we had not actually met more than once or twice since my mother's death. And there she was sitting with me at the other end of just such another little seat as' he turned to Herbert 'as ours, at Widderstone. It was on Bewley Common: I can see it all now; it was sunset.
'I understand you to explain, she said, 'that you went out of this house, just your usual self, this afternoon, for a walk; that for some reason you went to Widderstone "to read the tombstones," that you had a heart attack, or, as you said at first, a fit, that you fell into a stupor, and came home like like this. Am I likely to believe all that? Am I likely to believe such a story as that?
It really is rather queer. He took up his cup and sauntered over to the window. Lawford eyed him vacantly for a moment, and, following rather his own curious thoughts than seeking any light on this somewhat vague explanation, again broke the silence. 'It's odd, I suppose, but this house affects me much in the same way as Widderstone does. I'm not particularly fanciful at least, I used not to be.
Time will tire out this detestable physical witchcraft. The mind, the self's the thing. Old fogey though I may seem for saying it that must be kept unsmirched. We won't go wearily over the painful subject again. You told me last night, dear old friend, that you were absolutely alone at Widderstone. That is enough.
'Not very far from Widderstone. He lives practically alone. 'And all that stumbling and muttering on the stairs? he leant forward almost threateningly. 'There isn't anybody here, Lawford? 'Oh, no, said Lawford. 'We are practically alone with this, you know, he pointed to the book, and smiled frankly, however faintly.
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