I returned to the room, and, crossing it swiftly, had my hand already upon the key of the door when a new sound arrested me.
The sound proceeded from the gallery of the great staircase. I heard a key turned and a door creak upon its hinges. A moment later the faint light of a candle illumined the staircase, and the figure of a woman appeared.
It was all very sudden. But the half of a minute, I suppose, elapsed between the first sound of the key and the appearance of the beautiful creature who now stood in the gallery; yet to me it seemed an age of waiting. There I stood motionless, watching that vision which the candle revealed--the vision of the sleeper awakened, and a woman's cloak thrown about her shoulders.
"Good God!" I cried, "the dead have come to life!" Beyond all doubt this must be the sister of the murdered man.
"Mademoiselle," I said, taking a step forward. And at that she cried out in terror and let the candle drop. Instantly I strode to her side and caught both her hands, for it was evident she was swooning.
"Mademoiselle," I repeated, "I am a Frenchman, and came to this house to help your brother. Help me in your turn. There are men in the garden, and they are coming in--we must be quick, mademoiselle."
She shivered a little in my arms and then pressed forward towards me.
"I am Valerie," she murmured in a low voice, as though I would recognise the name. "My brother is dead; François the steward killed him. Oh, take me away--take me from this place."
I told her that I would do so, that my only desire was to escape from the house if I could.
"But, mademoiselle," said I, "every door is locked. I cannot find the way, and the brigands are returning. We have no time to lose."
The tidings appeared to rouse her. She passed her hand across her forehead and, staggering forward a little way, stood very still as though in thought.
I shall never forget that picture of her as the moonbeams came down from the dome above, and she stood there in a robe of white and silver. A more beautiful thing I have never seen upon God's earth. The story of her brother's death appeared no longer a mystery.
"My God!" she cried, "they are in the house!"
We bent over the balustrade together and listened to the sounds. There was a crashing as of woodwork, and then the hum of voices. Instantly upon that there came the heavy trampling of feet. Those who entered the house were not afraid--they were even laughing as they came.