"It is an owl hooting."
Suddenly she drew her hand from his, and he could hear her moving swiftly about. "All is as it used to be?" she asked.
"Precisely," he answered; "nothing has been changed."
"Here is the cabinet," she said, from across the room. "I can feel the lion's head. It is opposite to the window and the moonlight will stream in when the casement is opened, but if I crouch low I shall not be seen. Bien! And you, mon ami? Tell me, is the old escritoire still to the left of the door?" Now she was back at his side once again.
"The escritoire?" he repeated.
"The little table where one writes. Ah! yes, it is here. See, behind this, mon ami, shall you hide yourself. The moonlight will not reach here—and it is so arranged that you will see plainly any one that appears at the window. When the casement is opened, you will shoot, will you not, and shoot to kill?"
"Yes, I will shoot," said Dan, his voice trembling.
"You promise me?" she cried in a tense whisper, as she grasped his arm and held it tight in her grip.
"I tell you, yes."
"You must not fail."