As she reached him she stood still.
“Antony,” she cried in her old imperious way, “why don’t you go to the gate at once? She is waiting to be let in.”
“Who is waiting?” he demanded.
“Go and see,” she retorted. And she went off among the flowers, turning once to laugh back at him over her shoulder.
Antony stood looking after her, till she disappeared in the distance. Then he went slowly towards the gate. As he came near it, he saw a figure standing outside. But he could not see it distinctly, because, curiously enough, though the garden was full of sunshine, it was dark outside the gate, as if it were night.
“Who are you?” asked Antony.
The figure made no reply.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Still the figure made no reply.
Antony felt his heart beating quickly, madly. And then, suddenly from a distance behind him, he heard a gay mocking voice.