woke up. Instead of going to bed, I stood a long time at the window, looking out at the river. It was a warm, still night, and the first faint streaks of sunrise were in the sky. Presently I heard a slow footstep beneath my window, and looking down, made out by the aid of a street-lamp that Stanmer was but just coming home. I called to him to come to my rooms, and, after an interval, he made his appearance.
"I want to bid you good-bye," I said; "I shall depart in the morning. Don't go to the trouble of saying you are sorry. Of course you are not; I must have bullied you immensely."
He made no attempt to say he was sorry, but he said he was very glad to have made my acquaintance.
"Your conversation," he said, with his little innocent air, "has been very suggestive."
"Have you found Camerino?" I asked, smiling.
"I have given up the search."
"Well," I said, "some day when you find that you have made a great mistake, remember I told you so."
He looked for a minute as if he were trying to anticipate that day by the exercise of his reason.
