As soon as his head was outside
his own door, he saw a faint gleam of light coming from beneath
that of the next room. Advancing noiselessly, and softly feeling
for the latch, his hand encountered a bunch of keys depending from
the lock, but happily did not set them jingling. As softly, he
lifted the latch, when, almost of itself, the door opened a couple
of inches, and, with bated breath, he saw the back of a figure he
could not mistake--that of Mrs Catanach. She was stooping by the
side of a tent bed much like his own, fumbling with the bottom hem
of one of the check curtains, which she was holding towards the
light of a lantern on a chair. Suddenly she turned her face to the
door, as if apprehending a presence; as suddenly, he closed it,
and turned the key in the lock. To do so he had to use considerable
force, and concluded its grating sound had been what waked him.
Having thus secured the prowler, he crept back to his room, considering
what he should do next. The speedy result of his cogitations was,
that he indued his nether garments, though with difficulty from
the size of his foot, thrust his head and arms through a jersey,
and set out on hands and knees for an awkward crawl to Lord Lossie's
bedroom.
It was a painful journey, especially down the two spiral stone
stairs, which led to the first floor where he lay. As he went,
Malcolm resolved, in order to avoid rousing needless observers, to
enter the room, if possible, before waking the marquis.
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