"Well, good-night, Miriam. Good-night, I am so thankful to think that you are better! Good night."
And as he uttered those words, Julian understood.
"I see his ruse, his trick," he muttered. "He thinks that I am still upstairs, that he is deceiving me, making me believe she is down here. But, though I am not up there, she is! And perhaps in my room again. Quick, Paz! Come. Follow me!"
[CHAPTER XXV.]
A DÉNOUEMENT
By the same way that they had descended they now mounted to the floor above. Only, it was not Julian's intention to re-enter his room in the same manner he had left it; namely, by the door opening out of the corridor. To do that would be useless, unavailing. If the woman whom he suspected was in that room now, the first sound of his footstep outside, be it never so light, would serve to put her on the alert, to cause her to flee out on to the balcony and away round the whole length of it, and, thereby, with her knowledge of all the entrances and exits of the house, to evade him.
That, he reflected, would not do. If she escaped him now, then the determination he had arrived at, to this night bring matters to a climax, would be thwarted. Some other way must be found.
"Take me on to the veranda," he whispered to Paz; "to where I shall be outside the room I occupy. This time I will be the watcher gazing in, not the person who is watched."
"I take you," Paz said. "I show you. Same way I get there last night."
"Last night! So! That was you outside, lying low down? It was you?"