CHAPTER XVI.
THE TRAGEDY.
Pasdeloup did not so much as glance at the blazing tower. He was gazing at the woods about us, scanning each thicket with eyes preternaturally bright. It was still too dark for me to discern anything in the smudge of shadow beneath the trees, but my companion seemed to labor under no such disability. I knew of course that he was searching for some trace of his master.
“He said that he would wait for us at the edge of the wood,” I told him, “straight westward from the tower.”
“We came that way,” said Pasdeloup gruffly. “It was there I thought to find him, but he was not there. I will go back again. Wait here for me.”
In an instant he had disappeared beneath the trees so quietly that I did not hear so much as the rustle of a leaf. He melted into the forest; became a part of it.
I turned back to the tower and watched the flames as they leaped high in the heavens, as though striving to touch the stars, which faded and paled before the growing light in the east. Dawn was at hand, and I realized the folly of lingering there. That rope hanging from the window must be soon discovered—perhaps had been discovered long ere this—and pursuit of course would follow instantly. And my heart suddenly chilled at the thought that perhaps M. le Comte and the women had walked straight into a trap which had been set for them.
The thought brought me to my feet, and I looked to right and left with an overpowering feeling of helplessness. At the first step I would be lost. And yet I could not stand idle——
A sudden vivid sense of companionship caused me to start around. It was Pasdeloup who had returned as noiselessly as he had gone.
“You found them?” I asked.
He shook his head and sank to a sitting posture, his brows knitted, his eyes staring straight before him. I burned to ask the direction of his search, the details of it, but something in his attitude warned me to hold my tongue. Then suddenly his face cleared and he sprang to his feet.