Upon the deep tranquillity of the night--since now the storm had quite passed and, as he could see through the mica panes of the stable window, the late risen moon was shining clear in the heavens--he heard a door close violently within the Weiss Haus--close violently while sending out into the silence a heavy, dull thud such as a noise made in a shut-up house sends forth. As that noise reverberated he heard La Rose's halter shaken suddenly as by a start, and a tremulous whinny issue from her.
Quieting her with a gentle word as he rose from the position in which he had been lying, and going towards her as he spoke, Bevill's attention was still strained to the utmost for any further sounds. Yet, now, all was still, the night was undisturbed by any noise. Even from the warehouses some three hundred yards off, which were filled with French troops, there came nothing to tell of their presence.
"Can my ears have been deceived?" Bevill mused. "And if not deceived, how has that door closed thus? Ere I brought the mare from under the trees I had made sure that the one at the back of the house was closed, though unlocked, and it was not that door which shut so violently, but one within. Why did it so? The wind has died down long since; no current of air through any open window--if there were any such, which is not to be supposed--could have closed it. What is best to do?"
An instant later he had determined on his action. He would enter the house and discover what had caused so strange an occurrence on a night that was so perfectly calm as this one was now. It might be, it was true, an occurrence for which he would be able to discover an absolutely plain explanation; but if it were not so, then it were best he determined the cause of it.
He spoke a few words to La Rose even as he drew his sword, intending to carry it bare in his hand, and while hoping that Providence might see fit to prevent her becoming frightened and, by her fears, calling attention to her presence. Then he went forth from the stable door, locking it behind him and dropping the key into his pocket.
As he did so, he heard the clock in the Abbey church strike three, as well as the sound of the other clocks striking one after the other, and, also, the chiming of the carillons on the calm night air.
"It is the time," he said to himself, "when those who break into the houses of others seek to do so. It may, in truth, be some such as they, or else an enemy, seeking me. Well," through his teeth, "it it be Francbois, he shall find me--only, when he does so, let him beware. If 'tis he, no botte shall save him this time; and there is no Comtesse now to help him."
A moment later he stood outside the door at the back of the Weiss Haus--the door of which he had said to himself a moment since that "it was closed though unlocked."
But now he discovered that it was no more closed than locked. Some hand had opened it to enter the house, since even the wind could not lift a latch--the hand of someone who had entered the house and forgotten to shut the door behind him. Unless it had been purposely left open, thereby to afford a means of easy exit!
"And still it was not this door that shut with such a report," Bevill reflected, "but one above," and slowly he made his way into the interior of the house, while resolving to discover and make sure of who the intruder was. Because all shutters had been close fastened ere Sylvia left her house, and, discharging her servitors for a time at least, gave afterwards the care of the place into the hands of old Karl, the darkness was intense.