At five minutes to the hour they stood just within the belt of trees facing the house. Edward's first attempt at the kestrel's note was not a success. The weird sound echoed dismally through the night, awaking the bird life to protesting cries. He cleared his throat and tried again,—then, as the surrounding birds quieted down into a peevish chatter, a window on the first floor showed a faint light.
As they watched, grotesque shadows flitted over the ceiling and walls within the room as the occupant carried the candle to the window. For a moment Galva's slender form showed silhouetted against the glow,—then darkness. The men crept quietly up to the building.
As they mounted the steps they saw the massive door before them slowly open a few inches. Edward put out his hand and gently pushed it, and they were inside the hall.
It was in darkness, save for the dull glow that came from a horn lantern that stood on the stone floor. By its fitful light they could make out the shadowy form of an old woman who stood regarding them from the foot of the staircase. The rays, coming from below her, touched her figure here and there into yellow lights, and threw gigantic and misshapen shadows on the walls behind her.
Teresa was trembling. She held one finger to her lips as though enjoining silence, and a hand, outstretched, indicated the door of the dining-room. From the stairs above came the sound of hard breathing. As the men looked at the old woman, she disappeared, melting into the gloom of the staircase.
The duke made a sign to Edward to stay silent where he was, and with his revolver held in readiness, advanced to the door of the room.
It was open a little way only, and but a part of the room was visible. The long table was littered with the remains of a meal, and the cloth at one end had been crumpled and pushed back to clear a space for two men who sat there at cards.
One of them, whose figure showed out darkly against the light of the candelabra, was a personage of massive build, and the duke, taking stock of the bullet-shaped head and thick neck, told himself that here was a customer that would need some handling. The other, his opponent at the game, he saw at a glance was of little account. Old Pieto had been winning, and a crafty smile of gratified greed flickered over his face as he shuffled the dirty cards.
The watcher by the door noted with some satisfaction that both men applied themselves assiduously to the flagons of wine beside them, in fact, they were neither of them quite sober. As the man whose back was towards him put down his cards he shivered and half turned in his chair with a muttered imprecation upon old women who left doors open.
The duke slipped back into the shadows and raised his weapon and waited. But nothing happened; the man was perhaps too lazy to rise, and was waiting for the return of Teresa.