Book 2 Chapter 7

As the fantastic thought crossed his mind Anstice sat up decisively, telling himself he was growing imaginative; and Major Carstairs turned to him with a whispered word.

"Getting fidgety, eh? I know the feeling--used to get it when I was sitting in a straw hut in the marshes waiting for the duck to appear----"

He broke off suddenly; for a sound had shattered the silence; but though he and Anstice pulled themselves together in readiness for anything which might happen, both realized at the same moment that it was only the whirr of the grandfather clock which always prefaced the striking of the hour; and in another second the hour itself struck, with one deep, sonorous note which reverberated through the quiet room.

"One o'clock, and no result," Major Carstairs stretched himself cautiously. "How long is the sitting to continue, eh? It's all right for me, but I'm afraid if you have a heavy day's work in prospect----"

"Oh, I don't mind," said Anstice indifferently. "I'm used to having my sleep cut short--one's patients seem to think one can exist quite comfortably without it, though they make a tremendous fuss if they lose a night's sleep for any reason!"

"Well, if nothing happens shortly--and I'm inclined to think nothing will----" began Major Carstairs, but he got no further, for with the extraordinary aptness of conjunction which we are wont to call coincidence, though another word might more fitly be employed, the door opened almost noiselessly and a hooded figure crept on soundless feet into the room.