And then she was singing the refrain, and while she sang it she awoke.
"Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat night has flown;
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone,
I am here at the gate alone."
She stopped suddenly with the conviction that a man's voice had joined hers in the singing of that refrain. Yet, if this had been so, the accompanying voice ceased as abruptly as her own. She found herself sitting in absolute silence, with every pulse racing, every nerve strained to listen.
No sound came to her. The whole great chamber was as still as death. The fire burned red and silent. There was not so much as the ticking of a clock to be heard. And yet it seemed to her that eyes watched her from some vantage point unseen. She had a firm conviction that she was not alone.
She controlled the curious excitement that possessed her, and slowly set her fingers once more on the keys. She played the old refrain again, singing it very softly, listening intently while she sang. This time she was sure--quite sure--that a man's voice hummed the air. She went on to the end, and suffered her hands to fall.
"Charlie!" she said, without turning.
There came a slight sound behind her, the click as of a spring catch. She looked round, and saw him standing against the high panelling of the wall.
"What a childish game to play!" she said, with lips that slightly trembled.
"We are all children," observed Saltash. "We may think ourselves mighty clever, but the fact remains. Greeting, my queen rose! I am enchanted to see you."
He came forward, his black brows working comically, his queer ugly face smiling a welcome.