i have said that my position was in a recess formed between the wall and the side of the wardrobe. standing here, i suddenly became aware of a slight sound quite close to me, so slight that had i not been listening intently in that perfect stillness my ear would not have detected it. to determine exactly whence it proceeded puzzled me; any one who has listened for a sound in intense darkness will understand my uncertainty. something was moving—almost at my elbow, it seemed; yet nothing that i could see or touch. now again! louder. something moving close beside me. then suddenly the explanation flashed upon me. the noise came from the wardrobe. some one was inside.

scarcely had i realized this when, even in that darkness, i was aware of a black object in front of me. instinctively i raised my revolver; it knocked slightly against the wardrobe door, which was swinging slowly back upon me. so it had been unfastened and opened from the inside. whoever had opened it was already in the room. i waited a few seconds, then, with revolver ready in one hand, i began quietly to push the door to with the other. when it was half-way closed i paused and listened. some one was moving about the room in the direction of the bed. he was going, no doubt, to administer the coup-de-grace[pg 180], or to see whether i was already beyond it. in another moment he would find the bed unoccupied. this certainly called for prompt action on my part. all the same, action was not easy in that pitchy darkness. i could scarcely move on account of having to listen constantly for that stealthy presence. but i guessed the man’s first act on discovering i was not in the bed would be either to strike a light, or to return as he came to fetch others of the party. in the former case, i resolved to shoot him on the first spark of light; in the latter, which i hoped would happen, i intended to account for him in quieter fashion. for my only chance of accomplishing my ultimate purpose lay in wit, not force.

on the other side of the wardrobe stood a table on which i knew were a pair of massive silver candlesticks. i felt for one of these, seized it, took out the candle, and held it ready. for a few moments now i heard no sound in the room; then i became aware that, as i expected, the man was coming stealthily back towards the wardrobe. i slipped the revolver into my pocket, and grasping the heavy candlestick with both hands raised it above my head. the man came nearer, he was now quite close; i could hear, could feel, his breath. then, just at the right moment, i brought down the weapon with all my force on his head. the blow, by good luck, fell absolutely true. with an exclamation—half gasp, half groan—the man collapsed at my feet.

so far good. i listened, but heard no indication that the alarm had been taken. i dared not strike a light, having regard to the peephole in the wall. i knelt down and examined, as well as i could by touch, the prostrate form. he was evidently wearing the same sort of rough cassock as those worn by the men who had buried the priest in the wood. with some difficulty i took this from him and put it [pg 181]on myself. the fellow was breathing stertorously; from the force of my blow there could be little doubt that his brain had suffered sufficient concussion to keep him still for some hours to come. so there was nothing to fear from leaving him as he was.

i now entered the wardrobe and ventured to strike a match. the light showed me a sliding door formed by one of the panels at the back, which unnecessary ornamentation was thus accounted for. i passed through this, and found myself in a narrow passage. pulling the cowl over my head, i struck another light in order to see which way to turn. on the right a flight of wooden steps ran up to the roof. as there was no door or outlet of any sort up there it was evident that they were intended solely for the purpose of reaching the spy-hole in the frieze. i went on, groping my way for a certain distance, then striking a fresh light to see what was before me. i had two objects now: to discover, if possible, the prison of asta von winterstein, and to make good my escape from that house of murder—neither of them easy. after moving cautiously along for a considerable distance i came to a door, at what was evidently the end of the secret passage. before this hung the arras with which the corridor into which it opened was lined. luckily the passage, for obvious reasons, was carpeted with some soft material which deadened the sound of footsteps. from beyond the door came men’s voices. i crept warily forward and peeped through the hangings. across the corridor was a room of which the door was ajar and whence came the voices. a plan of action now occurred to me. taking the opportunity when one loud-voiced fellow was speaking, i stole across and hid myself behind the hangings on the other side. my position now was close to the door of the room in which the men were; their talk was plainly to be heard. they were [pg 182]speaking of the dog. the sweetmeat had evidently had its effect, and they seemed considerably mystified thereby. the count’s tone (for he was there) was angry and querulous; he was blaming the other men for carelessness in having left the poison in the animal’s way. this they vehemently denied, and the real solution of the mystery seemed to occur to none of them. under less critical conditions i should have been amused by this confirmation of the count’s true character when his veneer of hyper-politeness was stripped off. his present tone was ludicrously in contrast to that which he adopted in company.

presently, to end the recrimination, some one suggested that paulus was a long time gone. my charming host laughed. “it takes much to kill an eel and an englishman.” nevertheless, as the minutes passed without sign of their comrade’s return, they proposed to go in a body to see what was wrong.

this was what i had calculated upon. they came out of the room, four or five of them, crossed the corridor and entered the secret passage. i waited till they should have gone a safe distance, then came out of my hiding-place, went quickly to the door and fastened it upon them. thus i hoped, having the key of the prior’s room in my pocket, that they were nicely trapped, although, as it would not take them long to burst open the door i had just secured, it behoved me to lose no time in setting about what was to be done.

lighting my candle, i found no difficulty in making my way to the great staircase, to the head of which, indeed, the corridor ran, and so down to the hall. the entrance door was barred and locked, but there was something else for me to think of before escaping; so, protecting the light with my hand, i hastened on, looking into every room, trying every door, in my [pg 183]hurried search for asta von winterstein’s prison. in vain. every room i could find was deserted; nor did any show signs of having been occupied by her. during my search i came across the body of the great hound, stretched lifeless, or nearly so, on the stone flagging of an inner hall.

“a lucky thought of mine,” i muttered; “that fellow prowling about the place would have spoiled my game, and probably cost me my life.”

as the minutes went on my desperate eagerness to find the prisoner increased. rushing hither and thither i plunged into every opening and passage that presented itself, but seemed now in the great rambling place to be getting farther away from all sign of human life. thinking my search hopeless in that direction i came back to the great hall, and determined, sheer madness though it seemed, to make a quest upstairs.

the utter foolhardiness of this resolve has since been accounted for in my mind only by the fact that the excitement of the adventure was now strong upon me. i felt absolutely in honour bound to attempt the girl’s rescue at all hazards, and by the conviction that i should never have even such a chance as this again. so i made a dash upstairs.

i had hardly reached the top when i heard a cry, then a crash, followed by a shout and a sound of hurrying footsteps. i blew out my light. it was too late now. the men had broken out of the passage and were scouring the place for me. it was certain death if i did not take what small chance of escape was left to me. to rescue asta von winterstein that night, even if i had known where to find her, was out of the question. i set my teeth in grim disappointment and ran down the stairs again. to escape now by the front entrance was impossible; a flash of light told me the men were at the head of the stairs. but [pg 184]i had in my late search found and carefully noted the position of the postern door. this was led to by a short narrow passage opening out of another running at right angles across the end of the great hall. for this i made, finding it again without difficulty.

here i was obliged to strike a light. it showed me to my dismay that my escape was cut off, the door was locked and no key to be seen.

i threw down the match and pulled out my revolver. there, with my back to the door, i could keep the narrow passage perhaps against odds, or at least make a good fight for my life. any moment now my pursuers might come upon me. they seemed to be searching about the hall and the rooms adjacent to it. my discovery was a mere question of moments. i braced myself for the encounter and stood in readiness. i should be an easy target there if the ruffians had fire-arms, but even in that case i calculated i ought to be able to account for two or three of them before they could hit me.

at that critical moment, as a faint indication of light told of my enemies’ approach, a noise close by attracted my attention. some one was outside the door behind me. feet could be plainly heard on the steps; one of the men was evidently coming in. everything now hung on moments. if the count and his men inside the house should come upon me before the door opened it would mean that i should be attacked from behind as well, and my desperate chance of escape would be absolutely gone. the suspense of those few seconds brings a shudder even now in the writing. to my great relief the key grated in the lock, it turned, the door opened, and, just as a light flashed into the passage and a man’s shout proclaimed he had discovered me, i sprang from my crouching attitude behind the door upon the astonished incomer, dealt him a smashing blow in the face, knocking him [pg 185]backwards down the steps into the moat, plunged in myself and began to swim my hardest, keeping along in the dark shadow of the walls.

i did not swim far thus, knowing they would pursue me in the boat, but after going a short distance, struck across to land. luckily the night was dark with a drizzling rain, and it was not until i reached the bank that a cry told me i was seen. i fully expected a shot, if not a volley, but none was fired. next instant i was in the wood and comparatively safe. i ran through to the boundary wall, climbed it, and then stayed to listen for sounds of pursuit. none were to be heard. after a while i ventured to make my way by a circuitous path to the inn, which i reached without becoming aware of any signs of my late host or his gang. with some difficulty i succeeded in rousing the landlord, made an excuse for my late return, threw off my wet clothes, and tumbled into an honest bed after a very pretty night’s adventure.