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Chapter 30

           Advancingwithsoftcautiontothebalustradeoverlookingthisgallery,Igazeddownintoit,andforamomentcouldseenothingonthepolishedfloorbutthecriss-crosspatternsmadebythemoonlightfallingthroughthegreatwindow—butpresently,asIwatchedbreathlessly,wonderingwhereSibylcouldhavegonetoatthistimeofnight,IsawadarktallShadowwaveracrossthemoonlitnetworkoflines,andIheardthesmotheredsoundofvoices.Withmypulsesbeatingfuriously,andasensationofsuffocationinmythroat—fullofstrangethoughtsandsuspicionswhichIdarednotdefine,Icreptslowlyandstealthilydownthestair,tillasmyfoottouchedthelaststepIsaw—whatnearlystruckmetothegroundwithashockofagony—andIhadtodrawbackandbitemylipshardtorepressthecrythatnearlyescapedthem.

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