Wilfrid by chance had evidently lighted upon some sinister plot. Ever ready to oppose knavery, he put aside the Duchess for a time, determined to follow the men, and to defend, at the sword’s point if necessary, the woman against whom this plot was directed.
Now, had the men’s way lain parallel with the course of the shrubbery, it would have been an easy matter for Wilfrid to shadow them; but it so happened that they turned off in a line almost at right angles to this thicket, which was too densely set to permit the passage of a human body. Wilfrid ran, now to the right and now to the left, and when at last he did come upon a gap the men were out of sight.
With no clear idea as to the direction taken by them, Wilfrid, nevertheless, hurried forward, but his attempt to discover them proved a failure.
His good fortune took him again to the terrace fronting the river and there, a few paces off, with one hand lightly resting upon the marble balustrade, stood a graceful figure, dressed in a simple grey domino, with silver cording. Silent and motionless she stood, as if absorbed in the beauty of the night.
Wilfrid’s mind felt a sudden relief. Thank heaven, the knaves had failed, so far, in their purpose; the lady, whoever she might be, was still safe, and would continue to be so, as long as his trenchant blade swung by his side.
At Wilfrid’s approach the lady turned her head, and, as her eyes fell upon the blue scarf, she gave a start as of recognition.
That start raised a sudden hope in his mind, a hope confirmed as he received through the holes of her grey mask the attentive glance of a pair of dark blue eyes.
Wilfrid thrilled, first with pleasure, and then with amazement, as he recognised that the lady, sought for by Izak and his confederates, was none other than his own duchess!