After midnight every light sound seems so loud.
She fancied in the great stillness that she could hear rapidly approaching footsteps.
Again a cry! like the cry of a hunted beast, like the cry of a wounded wolf! She was not dreaming now, she could hear it plainly.

She saw where she was.

The moonlight was streaming through the window, she could see to the end of all three rooms.
Suddenly at the window overlooking the garden whence the moonbeams streamed in, a black shape appeared which obscured the moonlight for an instant.
This shape leaped through the window and, panting hard, rushed through the two rooms into the third where the arms stood.
Henrietta saw it fly past her bed, she heard its panting sobs and--recognized it.
It was Fatia Negra! this was Fatia Negra's house! And this was not all.
Close upon the traces of Fatia Negra rushed another phantom with a drawn sword in its hand, but its face was towards her and she recognized in it--Szilard Vamhidy.
And yet she did not lose her consciousness at this double sight of terror, though it would have been much better for her if she had.
Fatia Negra plunged into the armoury and plucked down a pistol from the wall.
Szilard paused on the threshold.
"Halt!" cried Fatia Negra with a voice like a scream--"this is my house and your tomb." Szilard did not condescend to reply but drew a step nearer.
"Sir, but one word more," said Fatia Negra in a fainter voice and so hoarsely as to be scarcely audible, "you have wounded me, you have run me down; but your life is now in my hands and I could kill you this instant if I had a mind to.

Let us bargain a bit: I won't kill you if you will not pursue me any further.

You return and say you could not catch me.