n inactivity, Randolph tried to resist a
certain uneasiness that was creeping over him, by attributing the
captain's absence to some unexpected legal consultation or the gathering
of evidence, his prolonged detention being due to the same fog that had
delayed his own train. But he was somewhat surprised to find that the
captain had ordered his luggage into the porter's care in the hall below
before leaving, and that nothing remained in his room but a few toilet
articles and the fateful portmanteau. The hours passed slowly. Owing to
that perpetual twilight in which he had passed the day, there seemed
no perceptible flight of time, and at eleven o'clock, the captain not
arriving, he determined to wait in the latter's room so as to be sure
not to miss him. Twelve o'clock boomed from an adjacent invisible
steeple, but still he came not. Overcome by the fatigue and excitement
of the day, Randolph concluded to lie down in his clothes on
the captain's bed, not without a superstitious and uncomfortable
recollection of that night, about a year before, when he had awaited
him vainly at the San Francisco hotel. Even the fateful portmanteau was
there to assist his gloomy fancy. Nevertheless, with the boom of one
o'clock in his drowsy ears as his last coherent recollection, he sank
into a dreamless sleep.

He was awakened by a tapping at his door, and jumped up to realize by
his watch and the still burning gaslight that it was nine o'clock. But
the intruder was only a waiter with a letter which he had brought to
Randolph's room in obedience to the instructions the latter had
given overnight. Not doubting it was from the captain, although the
handwriting of the address was unfamiliar, he eagerly broke the seal.
But he was surprised to read as follows:--

DEAR MR. TRENT,--We had such sad news from the Hall after you left.
Sir William was seized with a kind of fit. It appears that he had just
returned from the horse show, and had given his mare to the groom while
he walked to the garden entrance. The groom saw him turn at the yew
hedge, and was driving to the stables when he heard a queer kind of cry,
and turning back to the garden front, found poor Sir William lying on
the ground in convulsions. The doctor was sent for, and Mr. Brunton
and I went over to the Hall. The doctor thinks it was something like a
stroke, but he is not certain, and Sir William is quite delirious, and
doesn't recognize anybody. I gathered from the groom that