Thus the hours flew by unheeded until the three friends found themselves alone in the spacious hall, when, as they were not weary, Kurt proposed a short walk before retiring to rest, and they all sauntered out into the autumn moonlight that was flooding the garden and park. They walked on aimlessly until, emerging from a thicket of shrubbery, they saw before them one of the wings of the castle. All the windows here were darkened except two upon the ground-floor directly opposite them. The friends paused and gazed involuntarily into the apartment thus revealed to them. It was a large room, luxuriously furnished. In a cushioned arm-chair, beside a round table in the centre of the apartment, sat the Baron de Nouart, and on the table, at his elbow, stood a glass and a half-empty bottle.
Just as the officers emerged from the bushes some slight noise probably attracted the Baron's attention. He raised his head, seemed to be listening for an instant, and then arose hastily and drew close the heavy curtains that had been open to admit the air.
"Let us turn round," Kurt said, in a low tone; "the Baron may else suppose that we wish to spy upon him."
"Which would be a poor reward for the hospitality he has shown us," said Arno.
Styrum said nothing, but followed his companions, and not until they had reached the open lawn before the balcony of the dining-hall did he remark, "The Baron seemed in a great hurry to screen himself from observation."
"Naturally," Arno rejoined; "he had good reasons for so doing. Unless I am much mistaken, that was no wine-bottle at his elbow; it held good cognac. A fellow at such night-work hardly likes to be seen."
"They told me in Nontron that he was an incorrigible drunkard; never sober after noon," Kurt added.
Styrum shook his head; natural as was this explanation of the Baron's conduct, it did not satisfy him. "He may be a drunkard," he said, "but I am convinced that he had other reasons for drawing those curtains so quickly,--the same probably that made him turn away this afternoon when he saw me. I have surely seen that man somewhere; he knows me and fears my recognition. What else did you hear about him in Nontron, Kurt?"
"Not much, but quite enough to justify any suspicion of his honesty. He is said to be a distant relative of the widowed Marquise de Lancy, the owner of the castle, where he made his appearance only a few weeks ago; and although he is a zealous patriot, he is not, they say, a Frenchman, but a Russian. They say, too, that he can speak German extremely well, and yet this morning, when I addressed him in German, he could scarcely reply in the same tongue, although he said that he understood it perfectly. He is a suspicious character."
"I do not see any reason thus far for your distrust of him," Arno observed.