But the door did not open as I expected.

Instead, the scratching sound continued, growing slightly louder.

Then it occurred to me, at last, that whoever came might be a friend craving admittance, and proceeding stealthily that others in the castle might not overhear him.
Swiftly I crossed to the door, and opened.

On the threshold a dark figure straightened itself from a stooping posture, and the light of the taper behind me fell on a face of a pallor that seemed to glisten in its intensity.

It was the face of Mariani, the seneschal of the Castle of Cessna.
One glance we exchanged, and intuitively I seemed to apprehend the motive of this midnight visit.