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The House of the Wolf; a romance by Stanley John Weyman
page 67 of 208 (32%)
triumph over our enemy raised in my breast, there was certainly a
foreboding. The Vidame's hints, no less than his open boasts,
had pointed to something to happen before morning--something
wider than the mere murder of a single man. The warning also
which the Baron de Rosny had given us at the inn occurred to me
with new meaning. And I could not shake the feeling off. I
fancied, as I sat in the darkness astride of my beam, that I
could see, closing the narrow vista of the street, the heavy mass
of the Louvre; and that the murmur of voices and the tramp of men
assembling came from its courts, with now and again the stealthy
challenge of a sentry, the restrained voice of an officer.
Scarcely a wayfarer passed beneath me: so few, indeed, that I
had no fear of being detected from below. And yet unless I was
mistaken, a furtive step, a subdued whisper were borne to me on
every breeze, from every quarter. And the night was full of
phantoms.

Perhaps all this was mere nervousness, the outcome of my
position. At any rate I felt no more of it when Croisette joined
me. We had our daggers, and that gave me some comfort. If we
could once gain entrance to the house opposite, we had only to
beg, or in the last resort force our way downstairs and out, and
then to hasten with what speed we might to Pavannes' dwelling.
Clearly it was a question of time only now; whether Bezers' band
or we should first reach it. And struck by this I whispered
Marie to be quick. He seemed to be long in coming.

He scrambled down hand over hand at last, and then I saw that he
had not lingered above for nothing. He had contrived after
getting out of the window to let down the shutter. And more he
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