Eustace sat up suddenly and held his breath, his face blanched, his eyes alert.
"At last, close on midnight," Mrs. Orban went on in a low voice.
"Mother, mother," Eustace said in a sharp whisper, kneeling and putting an arm protectingly round her, "did you hear something?"
"Yes, darling," Mrs. Orban continued, "close on midnight—"
"No, no," Eustace said, "not then—now—this minute, as you were speaking!"
Mrs. Orban started perceptibly.
"No, darling," she answered. "Why? Did you?"
There was an instant's tense silence.
"It is some one coming round the veranda—barefoot," Eustace whispered.
"One of the maids, perhaps," said Mrs. Orban, but her voice quivered.