Clementina

Yet the moon which shone through the windows of one room must needs also

shine into the other, unless, indeed, the curtains were drawn. But

earlier in the evening Wogan had read a letter by the moonlight at his

window; the curtains were not drawn. There was, therefore, a rug, an

obstruction of some sort against the bottom of the door. But earlier in

the evening Wogan's foot had slipped upon the polished boards; there had

been no mat or skin at all. It had been pushed there since. Wogan could

not doubt for what reason. It was to conceal the light of a lamp or

candle within the room. Someone, in a word, was prying in Wogan's room,

and Wogan began to consider who. It was not the Countess, who was

engaged upon her harp, but the Countess had tried to detain him. Wogan

was startled as he understood the reason of her harp becoming so

suddenly untuned. She had spoken to him with so natural a spontaneity,

she had accepted the Prince's aid with so complete an absence of

embarrassment; but none the less Wogan was sure that she knew. Moreover,

a door had shut--yes, while he was speaking to the Prince a door had

shut.

So far Wogan's speculations had travelled when the moonlight streamed

out beneath his door too. It made now a silver line across the passage

broken at the middle by the wall between the rooms. The mat had been

removed, the candle put out, the prying was at an end; in another moment

the door would surely open. Now Wogan, however anxious to discover who

it was that spied, was yet more anxious that the spy should not discover

that the spying was detected. He himself knew, and so was armed; he did

not wish to arm his enemies with a like knowledge. There was no corner

in the passage to conceal him; there was no other door behind which he

could slip. When the spy came out, Wogan would inevitably be discovered.

He made up his mind on the instant. He crept back quickly and silently

out of the mouth of the passage, then he made a noise with his feet,

turned again into the passage, and walked loudly towards his door. Even

so he was only just in time. Had he waited a moment longer, he would

have been detected. For even as he turned the corner there was already a

vertical line of silver on the passage wall; the door had been already

opened. But as his footsteps sounded on the boards, that line

disappeared.

He walked slowly, giving his spy time to replace the letter, time to

hide. He purposely carried no candle, he reached his door and opened it.

The room to all seeming was empty. Wogan crossed to a table, looking

neither to the right nor the left, above all not looking towards the bed

hangings. He found the letter upon the table just as he had left it. It

could convey no knowledge of his mission, he was sure. It had not even

the appearance of a letter in cipher; it might have been a mere

expression of Christmas good wishes from one friend to another. But to

make his certainty more sure, and at the same time to show that he had

no suspicion anyone was hiding in the room, he carried the letter over

to the window, and at once he was aware of the spy's hiding-place. It

was not the bed hangings, but close at his side the heavy window curtain

bulged. The spy was at his very elbow; he had but to lift his arm--and

of a sudden the letter slipped from his hand to the floor. He did not

drop it on purpose, he was fairly surprised; for looking down to read

the letter he had seen protruding from the curtain a jewelled shoe

buckle, and the foot which the buckle adorned seemed too small and

slender for a man's.