She lifted the candle--she peeped under the candlestick: 'twas no shadow, as I live, 'twas a well-defined figure! He was draped in black, cowering low, with the face turned up.

It was Charles Nutter's face, fixed and stealthy.

It was only while the fascination lasted--while you might count one, two, three, deliberately--that the horrid gaze met mutually.

But there was no mistake there.

She saw the stern dark picture as plainly as ever she did.