n I
discovered that the said window was open.

"Too bad of the servants," I thought; "I should discharge them all if
they were mine. It quite accounts for the howling draught through the
house. Just the thing to give one rheumatism at this time of year."

Advancing with the intention of excluding the chilly blast, I was
suddenly arrested by the sight of a motionless figure kneeling in front
of the window. It was Irene Latouche. I had not noticed her in the
confusing patch of moonlight until my foot was almost on the heavy
velvet dress which fell over the floor like a great dark pall. Her arms
were resting on the window-sill, her beautiful pale face gazing upwards
with an expression of agonised despair. Evidently she was quite
unconscious of my presence.

Whilst I was turning over in my mind the possibility of beating a silent
retreat, she gave a low groan, so full of unquenchable pain that my
blood fairly ran cold. Then rising to her feet, she leaned far out into
the chill night air, stretching her white arms up towards the stars with
a passionate action of entreaty.

"Oh, my Beloved! Shall I ever pray in vain? Is there no mercy?" she
cried, and the sound of her voice was like the wind moaning through
rocky caverns. "My heart is breaking! My strength is almost at an end!
How much longer must I suffer this unspeakable misery?"

Clearly this sort of thing was not intended for strangers. I stopped my
ears and shrank as closely as I could into the shadow of the wall. But I
could not take my eyes off the girl for a moment. Such an exhibition of
wild passion I have never witnessed before or since. As a dramatic
effort it was superb; but all the time I was distinctly conscious of the
absurd figure I should cut if any third person came on the scene. Also
certain warning twinges in my left shoulder reminded me that I was not
in the habit of standing by open windows on bleak autumn nights. Why
Miss Latouche did not catch her death of cold I cannot imagine; for I
could see the wind disordering her dark masses of hair and blowing back
the Indian scarf from her bare shoulders. But she appeared to be as
indifferent to personal discomfort as she was to all external sounds.

Just as I had settled that my health would never survive such a wanton
infringement of all sanitary laws, Irene again sank on her knees and
buried her face in her hands. Now was my time. I crept noiselessly back
up the corridor until my hand was actually on t