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<h3>Chapter Eighteen.</h3> <h4>Nocturnal Proceedings.</h4> There was not a sound to be heard as Paul Capel stole softly down in his dressing-gown, and, as he expected, the drawing-room door was closed, but not latched. Pushing it softly, feeling certain that Katrine, if it was she, had entered there, he followed, and went on and on, till he was about in the middle of the room, and listening attentively. He began to think that he must have been mistaken, when there was a faint rustle, and a heavy breath was drawn, the sounds coming from the lesser drawing-room. He listened more intently, his heart beating heavily, and a strange singing in his ears. Another sound as of something being touched. The pen-tray on the little card-table where Mr Girtle sat and worked; and what was that? Undoubtedly one of the keys that lay there. Another and another was touched, and as they were moved on the thin mahogany that formed the bottom of the receptacle for cards the sound seemed quite loud. Then came a faint scraping sound, and he knew as well as if he had seen it, that a key was taken up. Keys? Yes, there were several there which the old lawyer used. Capel recalled that the key of the plate closet had been placed there when Preenham had handed it over. He listened, but there was no further sound. Yes; the low breathing could be heard, and it suddenly dawned upon Capel that Katrine had been approaching him—there she was close at hand. He had only to stretch forth his arms and the next instant she would have been folded to his breast. It was a hard fight, but he had read of a sudden awakening under such conditions proving dangerous. As he listened there was a faint rustling as the soft grey peignoir he knew so well passed over the thick carpet towards the door; and if the listener had any doubt, it was set aside by the light pat that he heard—it was a hand touching the panel. Capel waited a minute, during which he heard the dress sweep against the edge of the door, and then the sound was quite hushed. He knew what that meant, too; the door had been drawn to, and so he found it as he stepped lightly there, opened it, and passed out on to the great landing, where he strained his eyes upward to try and make out the graceful draped figure as it went up the winding staircase to the bedroom. It was not so dark there, for a faint gloom—it could not be called light—fell from the great ground-glass sky-light, at the top of the winding staircase, like so much diluted darkness being poured down into a well. That great winding staircase suddenly seemed to him full of horror, as he stood there. It had never struck him before, but now, how terrible it seemed. That balustrade was so low. Suppose, poor girl, in her sleep, she should lean over it, and fall down onto the white stones, where the black fretwork of the glistening stove could be seen like a square patch against the white slabs. There was no reason for such fancies, but Paul Capel’s hands grew wet with a cold perspiration. “I ought to have stopped her, and awakened her at any risk,” he said, as he still gazed up the great staircase; and then his heart seemed to stand still, for there was a faint click, as of a lock shot back, and it came either from on a level with where he stood, or from down below. In an instant he realised what had happened: Katrine had been to fetch the key of the late Colonel’s chamber, and had gone in there. He hesitated a moment, and then, going close, he softly touched the door, and felt it yield. Just then there came a faint scratching noise, and there was a gleam of light, showing him that the heavy curtain was drawn. Then the light shone more clearly, and pressing the door a little more open, he glided through. He was about to peer out softly, when the light was set down, he heard the soft rustle of the dress, an arm was thrust round from the far side of the curtain, and the door was carefully closed. “The work of a spy,” he said. But a slight sound attracted his attention, and his curiosity mastered all other feelings. Gently sliding his hand into his pocket, he drew out a penknife, and cut gently downwards, making a slit a few inches in length. This he drew slightly apart and gazed through, to see that Katrine was standing with her back to him, in the act of opening one of the large cabinets at the side of the bed. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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