embarrassment; but none the less Wogan was sure that she knew. Moreover,
a door had shut--yes, while he was speaking to the Prince a door had
shut.

So far Wogan's speculations had travelled when the moonlight streamed
out beneath his door too. It made now a silver line across the passage
broken at the middle by the wall between the rooms. The mat had been
removed, the candle put out, the prying was at an end; in another moment
the door would surely open. Now Wogan, however anxious to discover who
it was that spied, was yet more anxious that the spy should not discover
that the spying was detected. He himself knew, and so was armed; he did
not wish to arm his enemies with a like knowledge. There was no corner
in the passage to conceal him; there was no other door behind which he
could slip. When the spy came out, Wogan would inevitably be discovered.
He made up his mind on the instant. He crept back quickly and silently
out of the mouth of the passage, then he made a noise with his feet,
turned again into the passage, and walked loudly towards his door. Even
so he was only just in time. Had he waited a moment longer, he would
have been detected. For even as he turned the corner there was already a
vertical line of silver on the passage wall; the door had been already
opened. But as his footsteps sounded on the boards, that line
disappeared.

He walked slowly, giving his spy time to replace the letter, time to
hide. He purposely carried no candle, he reached his door and opened it.
The room to all seeming was empty. Wogan crossed to a table, looking
neither to the right nor the left, above all not looking towards the bed
hangings. He found the letter upon the table just as he had left it. It
could convey no knowledge of his mission, he was sure. It had not even
the appearance of a letter in cipher; it might have been a mere