The shutters were all once more closed, which I remember
thinking odd; and the house, with its white walls and green venetians,
looked spruce and habitable in the morning light. Hour after hour passed,
and still no sign of Northmour. I knew him for a sluggard in the morning;
but, as it drew on toward noon, I lost my patience. To say the truth, I
had promised myself to break my fast in the pavilion, and hunger began to
prick me sharply. It was a pity to let the opportunity go by without some
cause for mirth; but the grosser appetite prevailed, and I relinquished my
jest with regret, and sallied from the wood.
The appearance of the house affected me, as I drew near, with disquietude.
It seemed unchanged since last evening; and I had expected it, I scarce
knew why, to wear some external signs of habitation. But no: the windows
were all closely shuttered, the chimneys breathed no smoke, and the front
door itself was closely padlocked. Northmour, therefore, had entered by
the back; this was the natural, and indeed, the necessary conclusion; and
you may judge of my surprise when, on turning the house, I found the back
door similarly secured.
My mind at once reverted to the original theory of thieves; and I blamed
myself sharply for my last night's inaction. I examined all the windows on
the lower story, but none of them had been tampered with; I tried the
padlocks, but they were both secure.
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