I crept down the passage as noiselessly as I could and peeped round the corner of the door.
Barrymore was crouching at the window with the candle held against the glass.

His profile was half turned towards me, and his face seemed to be rigid with expectation as he stared out into the blackness of the moor.
For some minutes he stood watching intently.

Then he gave a deep groan and with an impatient gesture he put out the light.

Instantly I made my way back to my room, and very shortly came the stealthy steps passing once more upon their return journey.

Long afterwards when I had fallen into a light sleep I heard a key turn somewhere in a lock, but I could not tell whence the sound came.