Into the open there came a dark shape, the irregularity of its movements swiftly explained.

It moved at first upon all fours, then on two legs, then on all fours again.

It crept nearer and nearer, and Dominey, as he watched, laid aside his stick.

It reached the terrace, paused beneath Rosamund's window, now barely half a dozen yards from where he was crouching.

Deliberately he waited, waited for what he knew must soon come.