consisted in a "habit spasm," such as one often sees in nervous
children; a periodical quick jerk of the head, as if a cap-string or
dangling lock were being shaken off the cheek. Her age I judged to be
about thirty-five.

The carriage, which one might have expected to be waiting, seemed to
take some time in getting ready. I sat, with growing impatience,
listening to the sick man's soft breathing and the click of the
housekeeper's knitting-needles. I wanted to get home, not only for my
own sake; the patient's condition made it highly desirable that the
remedies should be given as quickly as possible. But the minutes dragged
on, and I was on the point of expostulating when a bell rang on the
landing.

"The carriage is ready," said Mrs. Schallibaum. "Let me light you down
the stairs."

She rose, and, taking the candle, preceded me to the head of the stairs,
where she stood holding the light over the baluster-rail as I descended
and crossed the passage to the open side door. The carriage was drawn up
in the covered way as I could see by the faint glimmer of the distant
candle; which also enabled me dimly to discern the coachman standing
close by in the shadow. I looked round, rather expecting to see Mr.
Weiss, but, as he made no appearance, I entered the carriage. The door
was immediately banged to and locked, and I then heard the heavy bolts
of the gates withdrawn and the loud creaking of hinges. The carriage
moved out slowly and stopped; the gates slammed to behind me; I felt the
lurch as the coachman climbed to his seat and we started forward.

My reflections during the return journey were the reverse of agreeable.