"Listen!" Philip turned toward the door. In the hall he heard footsteps. "Le M'sieur is awake," he said quickly to Pierre. "I will see you in the forest!"
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when the half-breed was gone. A moment later Philip knew that it was Adare who had passed his door. He dressed and shaved himself before he left his room. He found Adare in his study. Metoosin already had a fire burning, and Adare was standing before this alone, when Philip entered. Something was lacking in Adare's greeting this morning. There was an uneasy, searching look in his eyes as he looked at Philip. They shook hands, and his hand was heavy and lifeless. His shoulders seemed to droop a little more, and his voice was unnatural when he spoke.
"You did not go to bed until quite late last night, Philip?"
"Yes, it was late, Mon Pere."
For a moment Adare was silent, his head bowed, his eyes on the floor. He did not raise his gaze when he spoke again.
"Did you hear anything—late—about midnight?" he asked. He straightened, and looked steadily into Philip's eyes. "Did you see Miriam?"
For an instant Philip felt that it was useless to attempt concealment under the searching scrutiny of the older man's eyes. Like an inspiration came to him a thought of Josephine.
"Josephine was the last person I saw after leaving you," he said truthfully. "And she was in her room before eleven o'clock."
"It is strange, unaccountable," mused Adare. "Miriam left her bed last night while I was asleep. It must have been about midnight, for it is then that the moon shines full into our window. In returning she awakened me. And her hair was damp, there was snow on her gown! My God, she had been outdoors, almost naked! She said that she must have walked in her sleep, that she had awakened to find herself in the open door with the wind and snow beating upon her. This is the first time. I never knew her to do it before. It disturbs me."
"She is sleeping now?"