Her heart gave a sudden hard throb.

It came from Monck's room.
That meant--that meant--what did it mean?
That Monck had returned at that unusual hour?
Or that there really was a native intruder who had found the window unfastened and entered?
Again the impulse to retreat and call Peter to deal with the situation came upon her, but almost angrily she shook it off.

She would see for herself first.

If it were only Monck, then her fancy had indeed played her false and no one should know it.

If it were any one else, it would be time enough then to return and raise the alarm.
So, reasoning with herself, seeking to reassure herself, crying shame on her fear, she stepped noiselessly forth into the verandah and slipped, silent as that shadow had been, through the intervening space of darkness to the open window of Monck's room.
She reached it, was blinded for a moment by the light that poured through it, then, recovering, peered in.
A man, dressed in pyjamas, stood facing her, so close to her that he seemed to be in the act of stepping forth.