Cyril obeyed.
And then, having lighted Cyril's gas, Samuel drew the blind,
unfastened the catch of the window, and began to open it with many
precautions of silence. All the sashes in that house were
difficult to manage. Cyril stood close to his father, shivering
without knowing that he shivered, astonished only that his father
had not told him to get back into bed at once. It was, beyond
doubt, the proudest hour of Cyril's career. In addition to the
mysterious circumstances of the night, there was in the situation
that thrill which always communicates itself to a father and son
when they are afoot together upon an enterprise unsuspected by the
woman from whom their lives have no secrets.
Samuel put his head out of the window.
A man was standing there.
"That you, Samuel?" The voice came low.
"Yes," replied Samuel, cautiously. "It's not Cousin Daniel, is
it?"
"I want ye," said Daniel Povey, curtly.
Samuel paused. "I'll be down in a minute," he said.
Cyril at length received the command to get back into bed at once.
"Whatever's up, father?" he asked joyously.
"I don't know. I must put some things on and go and see."
He shut down the window on all the breezes that were pouring into
the room.
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