A black stain remained upon the dazzling white surface of the stone column.

He looked at it for a moment or two, then turned and retraced his steps with grim precision.
When he reached the bungalow, he turned into the room in which they had dined; and sat down to write.
Time passed, but he took no note of it.

It was past midnight ere he thrust his papers together at length and rose to go.
The main passage of the bungalow was bright with moonlight as he traversed it.

A crouching figure rose up from a shadowed doorway at his approach.

Peter the Great looked at him with reproach in his eyes.
Monck stopped short.