CHAPTER XVII.
When everything, that night, was quiet, Barbara, her hair hanging loose outside her dressing gown, slipped from her room into the dim corridor.
With bare feet thrust into fur-crowned slippers which made no noise, she stole along looking at door after door.

Through a long Gothic window, uncurtained, the mild moonlight was coming.

She stopped just where that moonlight fell, and tapped.

There came no answer.

She opened the door a little way, and said: "Are you asleep, Eusty ?" There still came no answer, and she went in.
The curtains were drawn, but a chink of moonlight peering through fell on the bed.