The sky was too light for stars, and beneath it the open country stretched so clear and far that it was as though one looked out at noonday through slate-colored glass.
Down the dewy slope below my window a few calves fed with toothless mouthings; the beck was very audible, the oak-trees less so; but for these peaceful sounds the stillness and the solitude were equally intense.
I may have sat there like a mouse for half an hour.

The reason was that I had become mercifully engrossed in one of the subsidiary problems: whether it would be better to drop from the window or to trust to the creaking stairs.

Would the creaking be much worse than the thud, and the difference worth the risk of a sprained ankle?
Well worth it, I at length decided; the risk was nothing; my window was scarce a dozen feet from the ground.

How easily it could be done, how quickly, how safely in this deep, stillness and bright moonlight! I would fall so lightly on my stocking soles; a single soft, dull thud; then away under the moon without fear or risk of a false step; away over the stone walls to the main road, and so to the nearest police-station with my tale; and before sunrise the villains would be taken in their beds, and my darling would be safe! I sprang up softly.

Why not do it now?
Was I bound to keep my rash, blind promise?
Was it possible these murderers would murder her?
I struck a match on my trousers, I lit a candle, I read her letter carefully again, and again it maddened and distracted me.