has been broken into and this gate of gates is not only standing
unlocked before their eyes, but a woman--a stranger to the town as
her very act shows--has been seen to enter there!--to enter, but
not come out; which means that she must still be inside, and
possibly in the very presence of the judge.

Where is Bela? Why does he allow his errands--But it was Bela, or
so they have been told, who left this gate ajar ... he, the awe
and terror of the town, the enormous, redoubtable, close-mouthed
negro, trusted as man is seldom trusted, and faithful to his
trust, yes, up to this very hour, as all must acknowledge, in
spite of every temptation (and they had been many and alluring) to
disclose the secret of this home of which he was not the least
interesting factor. What has made him thus suddenly careless, he
who has never been careless before? Money? A bribe from the woman
who had entered there?

Impossible to believe, his virtue has always been so impeccable,
his devotion to his strange and dominating master so sturdy and so
seemingly unaffected by time and chance!

Yet, what else was there to believe? There stood the gate with the
pebble holding it away from the post; and here stood half the
neighbourhood, staring at that pebble and at the all but invisible
crack it made where an opening had never been seen before, in a
fascination which had for its motif, not so much the knowledge
that these forbidden precincts had been invaded by a stranger, as
that they were open to any intruding foot--that they, themselves,
if they had courage enough, might go in, just as this woman had
gone in, and see--why, what she is seeing now--the unknown,