had some difficulty in steadying my own. There are some persons to
whom one can not lie successfully; one of them stood before me. But I
rather fancy I passed through the ordeal with at least half a victory.
"Will you go your way after an hour's rest?" she asked, speaking in the
familiar tongue.

"I promise." It was easy to make this promise. I wasn't a diplomat
for nothing. I knew how to hang on, to dodge under, to go about.

"Follow me," Gretchen commanded briefly.

(Who was she? What was going on?)

We passed through the gloomy salon. A damp, musty odor struck my sense
of smell. I was positive that the castle was uninhabited, save for
this night. Three candles burned on the mantel, giving to the gloom a
mysterious, palpitating effect. The room beyond was the dining-room,
richly paneled in wine-colored mahogany. This was better; it was
cheerful. A log crackled in the fireplace. There were plenty of
candles. There was a piano, too. This belonged to the castle; a heavy
tarpaulin covering lay heaped at one side. There was a mahogany
sideboard that would have sent a collector of antiques into raptures,
and a table upon which lay the remains of a fine supper. My mouth
watered. I counted over the good things: roast pheasant, pink ham, a
sea-food salad, asparagus, white bread and unsalted butter, an
alcohol-burner over which hung a tea-pot, and besides all this there
was a pint of La Rose which was but half-emptied. Have you ever been
in the saddle half a day? If you have, you will readily appreciate the
appetite that was warring with my curiosity.