Once I saw the glow of torches reflected ruddily in the windows of a tall and splendid mansion, a little withdrawn from the street.

The source of the light was in the fore-court, hidden from us by a low wall, but I caught the murmur of voices and stir of many feet.

Once a gate was stealthily opened and two armed men looked out, the act and their manner of doing it, reminding me on the instant of those who had peeped out to inspect us some hours before in Bezers' house.

And once, nay twice, in the mouth of a narrow alley I discerned a knot of men standing motionless in the gloom.

There was an air of mystery abroad, a feeling as of solemn stir and preparation going on under cover of the darkness, which awed and unnerved me.
But I said nothing of this, and Madame d'O was equally silent.