“You imagined it,” I said.
“No,” she stated, firmly, “I did not imagine that. But even if you don’t believe in it, do me the favor to stay here with me a few days. Take a few day’s leave from the twentieth century, and visit me in these middle ages, will you?”
“We began our leave from the twentieth century this afternoon,” John said, “in the square at Herrovosca. And certainly we’ll stay, won’t we, Carvin?”
“Of course,” I agreed, “with the greatest eagerness. As a matter of fact you simply couldn’t pry me away.”
“And not just a few days,” John announced, “we’re on indefinite leave from modernity. We’ll stay until everything is quiet again.”
Helena shook her head. “No,” she said. “That would be forever. A few days will cheer me up, nicely, and I’ll be most grateful. Of course you’ve had no dinner. It must be nine o’clock or after. I’ll have some food brought for you. Will you go to your rooms first?”
We went meekly, without argument.
Fifteen minutes later, by the sort of miracle common in large European households, we were served with a complete and beautifully cooked dinner. Helena nibbled a bit at first, and then began to eat hungrily, as she conquered her worry talking about it. About half past ten she insisted that we must be tired, as of course we were, and urged us off to bed. She looked exhausted, so we went obediently up to the three rooms that had been allotted to us. As I threw open the long window in my bedroom I saw that the rain had stopped. The night was clear and quiet, and I turned in with never a further thought of Marie or any other disturbing thing.
I don’t know quite how long I slept, but I awoke, feeling stifled, from a nightmare of a roaring motor car and a jumbled impression of Conrad, Marie, Yolanda and the Countess Visichich. I got up and went for air to the window. Outside, a narrow gallery ran along one whole side of the castle. I put on my dressing gown and, trying to shake off the unpleasant impression of my dream, walked slowly along, looking down over the face of the cliff below. An eagle surveying the valley from his eyrie could have had no more unbroken view of the world of mankind below him. I thought that the gallery would end at the corner, but when I reached it I found that it continued along one of the irregular juts on the north face of the castle, where the rising ground had been made into a garden. Tall cypress trees cut their sharp silhouettes against the starlit sky. It was all so beautiful that I wandered on down a short flight of steps to where a marble bench showed white under the dark green of the shrubbery. There I sat down and felt in my pocket for a cigarette. I usually keep a package and matches in that pocket, but this time they were missing, so I merely sat still and did nothing.
And suddenly I was glad I had not lit a match that would have made my presence obvious, for I distinctly saw a dark figure—the figure of a man—come through the bushes, and approach the castle. I rose and followed, feeling that midnight prowlers should be watched, though I realised that this might easily be a friendly, though silent, visitor.