For Valentine had made no comment,
had asked for no explanation. He had simply dropped the subject, and
the three men had remained together for a few minutes, constrained and
ill at ease. Then the doctor had said:
"Let us go back now to my room."
Valentine and he assented, and got upon their feet to follow him, but
when he opened the door there came up from the servants' quarters the
half-strangled howling of the mastiffs. Involuntarily Dr. Levillier
paused to listen, his hand behind his ear. Then he turned to the
young men, and held out his right hand.
"Good-night," he said. "I must go down to them, or there will be a
summons applied for against me in the morning by one of my neighbours."
And they let themselves out while he retreated once more down the stairs.
The drive home had been a silent one. Only when Julian was bidding
Valentine good-night had he found a tongue to say to his friend:
"The devil's in all this, Valentine."
And Valentine had merely nodded with a smile and driven off.
Now, in the sea solitude that was to be a medicine to his soul, Julian
went round and round in his mental circus, treading ever the same
saw dust under foot, hearing ever the same whip crack to send him
forward.
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