However, I have got over that mope. Shall I wait,
while you ask if Mr. Neville has left for my place? If not, he and
I may walk round together.'
'I think,' says Mr. Crisparkle, opening the entrance-door with his
key, 'that he left some time ago; at least I know he left, and I
think he has not come back. But I'll inquire. You won't come in?'
'My company wait,' said Jasper, with a smile.
The Minor Canon disappears, and in a few moments returns. As he
thought, Mr. Neville has not come back; indeed, as he remembers
now, Mr. Neville said he would probably go straight to the
gatehouse.
'Bad manners in a host!' says Jasper. 'My company will be there
before me! What will you bet that I don't find my company
embracing?'
'I will bet--or I would, if ever I did bet,' returns Mr.
Crisparkle, 'that your company will have a gay entertainer this
evening.'
Jasper nods, and laughs good-night!
He retraces his steps to the Cathedral door, and turns down past it
to the gatehouse. He sings, in a low voice and with delicate
expression, as he walks along. It still seems as if a false note
were not within his power to-night, and as if nothing could hurry
or retard him. Arriving thus under the arched entrance of his
dwelling, he pauses for an instant in the shelter to pull off that
great black scarf, and bang it in a loop upon his arm. For that
brief time, his face is knitted and stern.
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