.

IN THE MOAT.
Fortunio and the Marquise reached the window side by side, and they were in time to hear a dull splash in the waters fifty feet below them.

There was a cloud over the little sickle of moon, and to their eyes, fresh from the blaze of candle-light, the darkness was impenetrable.
"He is in the moat," cried the Marquise excitedly, and Valerie, who sat on the floor whither she had slipped when Fortunio shook her off, rocked herself in an agony of fear.
To the horrors about her--the huddled bodies lying so still upon the floor, the bloody footprints everywhere, the shattered furniture, and the groans of the man with the wounded thigh--to all this she was insensible.

Garnache was dead, she told herself; he was surely dead; and it seemed as if the very thought of it were killing, too, a part of her own self.
Unconsciously she sobbed her fears aloud.

"He is dead," she moaned; "he is dead." The Marquise overheard that piteous cry, and turned to survey the girl, her brows lifting, her lips parting in an astonishment that for a second effaced the horrors of that night.