the pace at which I had cleared
the precipitous pathway, and reckoning from the place and time at which
Lilian had been last seen-she could not possibly have yet entered that
house. I might presume it would be more than half an hour before she
could arrive; I was in hopes that, during the interval, Margrave might
show himself, perhaps at the door, or from the windows, or I might even
by some light from the latter be guided to the room in which to find
him. If, after waiting a reasonable time, Lilian should fail to appear,
I had formed my plan of action; but it was important for the success of
that plan that I should not lose myself in the strange house, nor bring
its owners to Margrave's aid,--that I should surprise him alone and
unawares. Half an hour, three quarters, a whole hour thus passed. No
sign of my poor wanderer; but signs there were of the enemy from whom
I resolved, at whatever risk, to free and to save her. A window on the
ground-floor, to the left of the door, which had long fixed my attention
because I had seen light through the chinks of the shutters, slowly
unclosed, the shutters fell back, the casement opened, and I beheld
Margrave distinctly; he held something in his hand that gleamed in the
moonlight, directed not towards the mound on which I stood, nor towards
the path I had taken, but towards an open space beyond the ruined wall
to the right. Hid by a cluster of stunted shrubs I watched him with a
heart that beat with rage, not with terror. He seemed so intent in his
own gaze as to be unheeding or unconscious of all else. I stole from my
post, and, still under cover, sometimes of the broken wall, sometimes of
the shaggy ridges that skirted the path, crept on, on till I reached the
side of the house itself; then, there secure from his eyes, should he
turn them, I stepped over the ruined wall, scarcely two feet high in
that place, on--on towards the door. I passed the spot on which the
policeman had shrouded himself; he was seated, his back against the ribs
of the broken boat. I put my hand to his mouth that he might not cry out
in surprise, and whispered in his ear; he stirred not. I shook him by
the arm: still he stirred not. A ray of the moon fell on his face. I
saw that he was in a profound slumber. Persuaded that it was no natural
sleep, and that he had become useless to me, I passed him by. I was
at the threshold of the open door, the light from the window close by
falling on the ground; I was in