He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper:

"Don't you mention I've gone there. If you want to know, I am afraid. I'm
afraid to sleep in my own room any longer."

She nodded.

"And you don't think they'd look for you there. What is it? Tell me what
it is. Why don't you send for some one--a man?"

"Leave me alone," he mumbled. "Nothing for you to be worried about,
except Bobby."

"Yes, there is," she cried. "Yes, there is."

He paid no attention to her fright. He entered the corridor. She heard
him shuffling between its narrow walls. She saw his candle disappear in
its gloomy reaches.

She ran to her own room and locked the door. She hurried to the window
and leaned out, her body shaking, her teeth chattering as if from a
sudden chill. The quiet, assured tread of disaster came nearer.

The two wings, stretching at right angles from the main building, formed
a narrow court. Clouds harrying the moon failed quite to destroy its
power, so that she could see, across the court, the facade of the old
wing and the two windows of the large room through whose curtains a
spectral glow was diffused. She heard one of the windows opened with a
grating noise. The court was a sounding board. It carried to her even the
shuffling of the old man's feet as he must have approached the bed. The