The trolley came, and he scrambled in and was carried to the station. When he got there he found that the next train for New York was not leaving for an hour and a half. He deposited his property in the baggage room and, wandering out again, stood aimlessly in the square, where the same tired horses with discoloured manes were swinging their heads to and fro under the thin shade of the locust boughs. It seemed months since he had first got out of the train, and seen that same square and those old-fashioned vehicles and languid horses. He remembered his shock of disappointment, and was surprised to find that he now felt a choking homesickness at the idea of looking at it all for the last time. Suddenly it occurred to him that he might still be able to walk as far as the Willows and have a last glimpse at its queer bracketed towers and balconies. He could not have told why he wanted to do this: the impulse was involuntary. Perhaps it was because his hours in that shadowy library had lifted him to other pinnacles, higher even than Thundertop.

He walked from the station to the main street, and at the corner was startled by the familiar yelp of the Eaglewood motor. His heart turned over at the thought that it might be Miss Spear. He said to himself: "Perhaps if she sees me she'll stop and tell me she's sorry for what's happened"; and he softened at the memory of her lavish atonements. But when the motor disengaged itself from the traffic he found there was no one in it but Jacob. Vance was about to walk on, but he saw Jacob signalling. The thought started up: "He may have a message—a letter," and his heart beat in that confused way it had since his illness. Jacob drew up. "See here, I was looking for you. I've been round to the Tracys'. You get right in here with me."

"Get in with you—why?"

"'Cos the folks've sent me to bring you over to the Willows. They're waiting for you there now. They said I was to go to your place and tell you you was to come right off."

The blood rushed to Vance's forehead, and his softened mood gave way to resistance. Who were these people, to order him about in this way? Did they really suppose that he was at their beck and call? "Waiting for me? What for? I'm leaving for New York. Mrs. Tracy has the keys of the Willows. I've got nothing to do with it."

Jacob took off his straw hat and scratched his head perplexedly. "Miss Halo she said you was to come. She said: 'You've got to bring him, dead or alive.'"