noon
When the hard ride had brought warmth to his blood and a glow to his cheeks , he told himself he had been the victim of fancy . It was nothing ; it was a delusion of the sight ; a mere shadow cast off by his distempered brain . He was passing at a walking pace through Laxey by this time , and as the horse 's feet beat up the echoes of the sleeping town , his heart grew brave . Next day , at noon , he was talking with his servant , Jem-y-Lord , in his rooms in Athol Street . He had lately become tenant of the entire house . They were in his old chambers on the first floor , looking on to the churchyard . `` I may rely on you , Jemmy ? ''