"No one else--it is I alone who have served him."
"Does he live here alone?"
"Oh, no. When he first came he brought a lady with him."
"And she is still in the house?"
"Oh, yes; she is still in the house, poor lady!"
Instinctively we all turned our eyes to the window which Rivers had declared to be the window of the room occupied by a lady--even Ronald's sightless eyes were turned in that direction.
"That is her bedroom?" Rivers asked.
"Yes, it is there she sleeps."
"Hold hard a bit," he cried. "She is awake."
The occupant of the room had moved the light, and we saw her shadow on the blind. We looked up in silence, expecting that something strange would occur. I cannot explain the cause of this impression, but in subsequent conversation with my companions they confessed that they had experienced the same feeling of expectation as myself. What did occur was this: The blind was pulled up, and the window opened, and by the window stood a female figure in a white nightdress, stretching out her arms toward us. It was not possible that she could see us, but her imploring attitude seemed like an appeal to us to save her from some terrible danger, and it powerfully affected me.