CHAPTER XX.
IN THE DARKENED ROOM.
Claude flung the cloak from his head and shoulders, and sat up.

It was morning--morning, after that long, dear sitting together--and he stared confusedly about him.

He had been dreaming; all night he had slept uneasily.

But the cry that had roused him, the cry that had started that quick beating of the heart, the cry that still rang in his waking ears and frightened him, was no dream.
As he rose to his feet, his senses began to take in the scene; he remembered what had happened and where he was.

The shutters were lowered and open.