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Two weeks had flown by since I had listened to Lord Dunraven's voice in DeNortier's chamber. Two weeks in which I had waited, my nerves keyed up to the highest pitch, for the next move from my enemies; but no sound came.
My lord I had not seen since that night when he had disappeared in the cavern. It was as though he had vanished forever; but I knew that somewhere behind the scene he was watching and waiting for the time to ripen, so that the curtain could rise for the last scene in the tragedy. DeNortier had said naught to me, though he must have known of Herrick's death, and of the fact that I now had discovered the secret of my captivity. He still came and went as heretofore.
I heard the sound of footsteps behind me and turning I saw one of the Indian attendants, called José.
"What is it, José?" I asked, speaking in his own tongue.
"The Señor wishes to talk with thee," he answered. "Even now he waits in the great room," and so saying he disappeared into the house.
So the next move had come after all. I would be very watchful and silent, and so thinking, I passed into the hall and back to the great room where DeNortier awaited me.
He was seated there in one of the huge chairs, his head buried in his hands, and did not hear me as I entered.
"What is it, Count?" I asked.