The third house, they had said, from the south side, at the Sign of the Lamb. She found it without difficulty and paused under the little portico, to stare with shuddering eyes at the great clumsy church that occupied the centre of the Square.
The chill dusk, the steady rain, the silent dark houses that yet had an air of watchfulness as if behind their blank windows spying eyes observed her, affected her with a terror that nearly brought her to scream aloud.
She made no attempt either to ring the bell or to move away. The rain swept in under the portico, wetting her thin dress, the dark gathered about her, and her hand, resting on the iron railing of the steps, became a white blur before her eyes.
Then the door opened. She stepped back. It was Marius' man.
"Is your master at home?" the words came instinctively, more natural than silence.
"Yes, madam."
She wondered how much he could see of her, and spoke again, forestalling his curiosity.
"I am of Captain Lyndwood's family, you need not come up with me."
The man glanced round the deserted Square for her coach, chair, or servants.
"You are perhaps on your way to my lady's house for some of your master's things?" the Countess hazarded.