The indicated door was wider than its neighbors; wider and heavier. It had a somber and secretive air about it. I paused, as I raised my hand to knock, and then, amused that a mere wooden door should awe me, I knocked, and waited. After a moment I knocked again, and called. Then the door opened, and Helena stood before me, still fully dressed. Behind her the room was dimly lighted by not more than three or four candles.
“You are safe?” I asked.
Her voice was so calm as to be almost cold as she answered slowly, “Safe? Why should I not be safe? My door is locked and no one can get to me.”
“I was afraid something might have happened to you,” I said, “because I was in the garden just now, and I distinctly saw a man prowling around. Finally he disappeared into what seemed to be the blank wall of the castle.”
She laughed, then, a little. “Oh, Marshall,” she said, “I am afraid I led you to expect too much tonight, telling you that we lived in the middle ages here. Better go back to bed, and don’t dream dreams. Everything will come right in the morning. Good night, Marshall. Thanks for coming to see.”
“I tell you, Helena, I saw—”
“You dreamed, Marshall.”
“Are you quite sure there isn’t an old secret passage into the castle?”
“If there had been my husband would have told me about it. I’ve lived here a number of years, you know.”
“There are others who’ve lived here longer.”