And then, while all this was going on, Cristina vanished like a wraith, in the night. But no one saw her go, or indeed noticed that she had gone, till long afterwards—as length of time was counted on that strange and awful night.
“Do you think you could go into the house and find me a candle?” muttered M. Popeau.
“Oh yes, of course I can!”
Lily set off running towards the house.
“Not so fast!” panted M. Popeau close behind her. “Stuart is only drugged,” he exclaimed. “He will be quite himself by to-morrow morning. But we only came just in time. You saved his life!”
Lily stopped, and looked at the closed shutters of La Solitude.
“I wonder how I can get in?” she murmured.
“Are you afraid to go into the house alone?” he asked.
“No, no,” she cried, “not a bit afraid! Never afraid any more!”
She ran along the terrace and so round to the back of the house—yes, the gate which gave access to the yard was wide open!