“It is all right, darling,” he replied, with perhaps more confidence than he felt. “I have my revolver; there can be no danger. Uncertainty is the worst now we have to fear, and I must put an end to that.” So, with a reassuring caress, he left her.
Traversing the now dimly lighted semi-circular corridor Herriard made his way round the house till he came to the box he sought. Somewhat to his surprise, the door stood ajar. He opened it, and looked in. The box was empty.
Having convinced himself of this, Herriard asked the name of the gentleman who had occupied the box. He was told that through a misunderstanding that particular box had not been let, although the house was otherwise full. When he insisted that it had been lately occupied, he was told that he must be mistaken, or perhaps one of the attendants had gone into it for a few minutes to watch the great scene. Anyhow the officials were certain that the box had not been let or regularly occupied that evening.
Considerably relieved, Herriard went back to Alexia. As he reached her the curtain fell, and the lights were turned up again. “It was your fancy, dear one,” he said, in answer to her apprehensive look. “No one was in that box. I searched it thoroughly and am certain it was empty; besides, they tell me it was not let to-night.”
He was troubled to see that she was not reassured. “There was some one in it,” she asserted in a tone of conviction. “Directly you had left me the door of that box opened, and a man passed out. I am sure of that. I distinctly saw the light from the passage beyond, and the man’s figure against it.”
“It is quite likely,” he replied. “The official whom I spoke to suggested that one of the attendants went into the empty box to watch the scene. That is the real explanation; but we, having Gastineau on the nerves, are liable to see him anywhere.”
It was plain to him that Alexia could not bring herself to accept the explanation, plausible as it was. The enjoyment of the evening was gone; they soon after left the theatre and returned to their hotel.
Neither on that night, however, nor on the next day, which was passed in completing their long journey, did they, although keenly alert, see anything to confirm their uneasiness. Gastineau, if it had indeed been he, was a man easily recognized, but their watchfulness saw no one resembling him. As the hours wore on, shortening the distance between her and the home she loved, Alexia’s spirits rose, and she almost succeeded in persuading herself that the terror of the night before had been but a creature of her nervous fancy. And so it was in a happier state of mind that they caught their first glimpse of the great Schloss Rohnburg, standing in romantic picturesqueness amid its setting of pine woods; and at the sight of the noble old house, welcoming them in all its peaceful strength and beauty, they forgot their fears in the sense of security it suggested. Here was an asylum indeed; a delightful refuge from the intrigues and dangers of the outside world. They drove into the courtyard with a grateful sense of relief, and a feeling that they had outstripped their Nemesis and left danger far behind them.
The days that followed confirmed this idea, that the security for which they had scarcely dared to hope had been attained. The estate of Rohnburg seemed a compact miniature kingdom, in which Herriard and his bride were for the time all-powerful, and from which their authority would serve to keep any threatening intruder away. Somehow Herriard felt, as he explored the place, that the unwelcome appearance even of Gastineau in that spot would lose much of the terror which would be inspired by the idea of his tracking them with a sleuth-hound’s tenacity amid the labyrinth of a populous city. To meet an enemy in the open should have no terrors for a man of courage, since the elements of surprise and mystery, which beget fear, are absent. So Herriard found, as the days passed, that the haunting sense of an impending blow coming from a quarter of which he was uncertain began to diminish. In an atmosphere of security, freedom, happiness, his spirits rose, carrying Alexia’s with them. They walked together in the park which girded the Schloss, strolling along woodland paths, and every succeeding day they went farther afield. At first their walks were attended by a furtive watchfulness against the appearance of a dreaded form, for a hint of a sinister presence. Nothing, however, occurred to fulfil their expectation, and, by degrees, the strain of alertness was relaxed. And, while it lasted, they neither of them cared to let the other know how seriously their minds were haunted by the ever-present misgiving. For a brave mind hates the fear that is forced upon it too greatly to care to speak of it where the telling can avail nothing. And, assuredly, the more reason we have for keeping a bold face, the better too it is for the beating down of a dread which is nothing more than an invitation to our danger.