Vail was right. Spring had come to the commuters and I thought sardonically of what could be expected at every country club the next night--Saturday. I missed the turn-off for Bedford Hills and wasted a couple of hours wandering amiss through the maze of Westchester roads, but finally I found myself on a familiar road and soon eased the Packard to a slow stop on the crackling gravel of the entrance of Pook's Hill.
I left my bags in the car and walked quietly along the grass until I let myself in at front door. A muffled woof from the kitchen showed that Ponto had drowsily recognized my tread as I tip-toed up the stairs and into my bedroom. It was three o'clock in the morning and the frogs were still jingling in the marshy meadows as I stood by the window and tasted the night air. Then I undressed rapidly and put on a dressing-gown and slippers. I turned off the lights and tip-toed across the hall to my wife's bedroom.
Her door was closed but, when I turned the handle, it proved not to be locked or bolted. I closed it softly behind me and approached the edge of the bed. Germaine was sleeping quietly, the faint glow of the starlight outlining her dark hair against the white pillow.
I leaned over and brushed her hair with my lips.
"It's me," I told her truthfully. "Everything's all right."
"Hurry!" she murmured. "You'll catch cold."
A moment later, she remarked conversationally, "Heavens! You _are_ cold."
Then she burrowed herself against me and wordlessly raised her lips to mine.
When I opened my eyes in the morning the bed felt strangely deserted. I reached over and found that I was alone.
"Hullo," she remarked. "Where did you come from? And what are you doing there? Don't you know that all respectable married couples sleep in separate rooms, according to 'House and Garden'?"
"I'm not respectable," I told her. "Please notify the editor."
"You certainly are not!" she observed. "You nearly gave me heart-failure, sneaking into my room like that when you were supposed to be in Hartford. It would have served you right if I'd called for the police."
"I'm just as good as the average policeman," I suggested. "Come over here and I'll show you how we Tompkinses--"
"No, sir. We must set a good example to the servants. It's way past breakfast time and I don't want Myrtle to guess that we're absolutely shameless."