Suddenly the problem was solved by a sight which put me keenly on the alert.
My eyes happened to be casually fixed on one of the carved wooden rosettes which extended at intervals round the frieze of the wall. The particular rosette in my line of sight was slowly revolving. My first idea was to regard this as an ocular deception; then, watching it attentively, I concluded that such was not the case; the rose was actually turning. It gradually receded, till it disappeared altogether, leaving in its place a dark, circular aperture; doubtless a spy-hole commanding the whole room. Prepared for this, I had turned over, bringing my head into a higher position where it would be hidden from the expected watcher by the fringe of the bed-canopy. Through a gap in this I could still, unseen, keep the peep-hole under observation, and could detect, at least so it seemed, a pair of malignant eyes glaring from its black recess.
So the time for action was at hand. I turned sleepily on my pillow, and blew out the lights. That would put an end to the watching, which was intolerable. Then I listened. Not a sound. The very silence showed me that my nerves were in order—not even imagination conjured up the slightest movement. After waiting a few minutes, I quietly slipped out of bed, and resumed such of my clothes as I had put off. I took my revolver, matches and a candle, and made ready to meet the danger I felt was coming. From what quarter it would appear I was quite ignorant, and not a little curious; anyhow, I was not going to stay where it would expect to find me. I crossed the room, and took my stand beside the square wardrobe, ready for a dash, and listening intently.
I had some time to wait, the most exciting suspense, perhaps, of my life. There I stood in pitch darkness, straining my ears for the sound I knew must surely be coming. But when? Whence?
I waited on grimly, revolver in hand, with every faculty on the alert, for the slightest indication that the room contained a living being beside myself. At last it came.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE COUNT’S HOSPITALITY
I have said that my position was in a recess formed between the wall and the side of the wardrobe. Standing here, I suddenly became aware of a slight sound quite close to me, so slight that had I not been listening intently in that perfect stillness my ear would not have detected it. To determine exactly whence it proceeded puzzled me; any one who has listened for a sound in intense darkness will understand my uncertainty. Something was moving—almost at my elbow, it seemed; yet nothing that I could see or touch. Now again! Louder. Something moving close beside me. Then suddenly the explanation flashed upon me. The noise came from the wardrobe. Some one was inside.
Scarcely had I realized this when, even in that darkness, I was aware of a black object in front of me. Instinctively I raised my revolver; it knocked slightly against the wardrobe door, which was swinging slowly back upon me. So it had been unfastened and opened from the inside. Whoever had opened it was already in the room. I waited a few seconds, then, with revolver ready in one hand, I began quietly to push the door to with the other. When it was half-way closed I paused and listened. Some one was moving about the room in the direction of the bed. He was going, no doubt, to administer the coup-de-grâce, or to see whether I was already beyond it. In another moment he would find the bed unoccupied. This certainly called for prompt action on my part. All the same, action was not easy in that pitchy darkness. I could scarcely move on account of having to listen constantly for that stealthy presence. But I guessed the man’s first act on discovering I was not in the bed would be either to strike a light, or to return as he came to fetch others of the party. In the former case, I resolved to shoot him on the first spark of light; in the latter, which I hoped would happen, I intended to account for him in quieter fashion. For my only chance of accomplishing my ultimate purpose lay in wit, not force.