Looking through the heavy branches, he saw the figure of a woman—a familiar figure, it seemed to him—moving rapidly to and fro among the blooms.
He called to her, believing this time he was face to face with young Mrs. Gardiner, when he found to his keen disappointment it was only Antoinette, the clever French maid.
She should take a message to her mistress, he determined; and tearing a leaf from his memorandum-book, he hastily penciled a note to Sally Gardiner, which he felt sure would bring her with all possible haste to the place at which he awaited her.
"Give this to your mistress with dispatch, Antoinette," he said.
He knew the golden key that would be apt to unlock this French maid's interest to do his bidding. As he spoke, he took from his pocket-book a crisp bank-note, which he told the girl she was to spend for bon-bons or ribbons for herself.
He had always made it a point to fee the French maid well, that he might have a powerful ally in the home of his intended victim.
The money, together with a little judicious flattery now and then, had won Antoinette completely over.
As Victor Lamont sat on the mossy bowlder by the brook-side, watching and waiting, he observed, early as the hour was, that the servants of the mansion had begun to bestir themselves. One hour passed after Antoinette had returned to the house; then another.
Young Mrs. Gardiner did not come to the rendezvous.
"Why is she not here?" he asked himself; and for the first time in his life he quite lost control of himself in a fit of terrible anger, and to calm himself he had recourse more than once to the silver flask which he carried in his breast-pocket.