CHAPTER LXXIV.
MIDNIGHT.
Gradually the sneer faded from Abel's face, and he walked up and down the room, no longer carelessly, but fitfully; stopping sometimes--again starting more rapidly--then leaning against the mantle, on which the clock pointed to midnight--then throwing himself into a chair or upon a sofa; and so, rising again, walked on.
His head bent forward--his eyes grew rounder and harder, and seemed to be burnished with the black, bad light; his step imperceptibly grew stealthy--he looked about him carefully--he stood erect and breathless to listen--bit his nails, and walked on.
The clock upon the mantle pointed to half an hour after midnight.

Abel Newt went into his chamber and put on his slippers.

He lighted a candle, and looked carefully under the bed and in the closet.

Then he drew the shades over the windows and went out into the other room, closing and locking the door behind him.
He glided noiselessly to the door that opened into the entry, and locked that softly and bolted it carefully.

Then he turned the key so that the wards filled the keyhole, and taking out his handkerchief he hung it over the knob of the door, so that it fell across the keyhole, and no eye could by any chance have peered into the room.
He saw that the blinds of the windows were closed, the windows shut and locked, and the linen shades drawn over them.