Part 8 (1/2)
”I beg your pardon, but would you mind doing me a slight favour?”
Those were the words, uttered in a clear, sweet, perfectly confident voice, as of one who never asked for favours, but exacted them.
I looked about me, blinking, utterly bewildered. No one was to be seen.
She laughed. Without really meaning to do so, I also laughed,--nervously, of course.
”Can't you see me?” she asked. I looked intently at the spot from which the sound seemed to come: a perfectly solid stone block less than three feet from my right shoulder. It must have been very amusing. She laughed again. I flushed resentfully.
”Where are you?” I cried out rather tartly.
”I can see you quite plainly, and you are very ugly when you scowl, sir. Are you scowling at me?”
”I don't know,” I replied truthfully, still searching for her. ”Does it seem so to you?”
”Yes.”
”Then I must be looking in the right direction,” I cried impolitely.
”You must be--Ah!”
My straining eyes had located a small, oblong blotch in the curve of the tower not more than twenty feet from where I stood, and on a direct line with my balcony. True, I could not at first see a face, but as my eyes grew a little more accustomed to the darkness, I fancied I could distinguish a shadow that might pa.s.s for one.
”I didn't know that little window was there,” I cried, puzzled.
”It isn't,” she said. ”It is a secret loop-hole, and it isn't here except in times of great duress. See! I can close it.” The oblong blotch abruptly disappeared, only to reappear an instant later. I was beginning to understand. Of course it was in the beleaguered east wing!
”I hope I didn't startle you a moment ago.”
I resolved to be very stiff and formal about it. ”May I enquire, madam, what you are doing in my hou--my castle?”
”You may.”
”Well,” said I, seeing the point, ”what are you doing here?”
”I am living here,” she answered distinctly.
”So I perceive,” said I, rather too distinctly.
”And I have come down to ask a simple, tiny little favour of you, Mr.
Smart,” she resumed.
”You know my name?” I cried, surprised.
”I am reading your last book--Are you going?”
”Just a moment, please,” I called out, struck by a splendid idea.
Reaching inside the window I grasped the lanthorn and brought its rays to bear upon the--perfectly blank wall! I stared open-mouthed and unbelieving. ”Good heaven! Have I been dreaming all this?” I cried aloud.
My gaze fell upon two tiny holes in the wall, exposed to view by the bright light of my lamp. They appeared to be precisely in the centre of the spot so recently marked by the elusive oblong. Even as I stared at the holes, a slim object that I at once recognised as a finger protruded from one of them and wiggled at me in a merry but exceedingly irritating manner.