Just at this moment Hilvardine gave a low cry. “A face at the window!” she gasped. “I certainly saw two burning eyes watching our every movement.”
Conrad Chenoweth went to the window and looked out. It was a cloudless night. A soft, white radiance suffused the eastern sky. Presently the moon appeared on the horizon, first a point, then a rim of silver, and finally the gibbous disk lifted itself above the sky-line, and long shadows lay across the yard and the surrounding grounds. There was no person to be seen.
“Hilvardine, you have been the victim of a strange hallucination,” said the young man as he returned to the table. “Everything is quiet outside, and there is no one to be seen.”
“I presume you are right,” said Hilvardine with a forced smile. “So much talk about the Inquisition has evidently made me nervous.”
The subject was dismissed, and the family adjourned to the sitting-room.
Had Conrad watched long enough he might have seen a shadow creeping stealthily from beside the garden wall, and, flitting across the road, disappear in the wood beyond.
The slouching gait and distorted figure were those of Maurits the groom.
