"What time do you make it?" I asked. "My watch has stopped."
He produced his own and glanced at it.
"So has mine," he said. "It stopped at five minutes to four."
We both sat in silence for some moments. Obviously there was nothing to
be done but to wait for somebody to come. The door was locked, there
was no bell in the room, and the room was on an upper floor.
Over an hour must have passed, and we had endeavoured to take our
bearings.
From what we could see of the place from the high up window, it was a
huge rambling old chateau with round turrets, and slated roofs,
overlooking a large sloping park in the midst of picturesque mountains,
many of which were still tipped with snow. The situation was perfect,
but it was in a remote, lonely spot, without another house in sight.
In the front was a long double colonnade with a terrace which commanded
a fine vista down the valley. The style was that of Louis XV, as indeed
was the furniture of the room, and there were several old paintings and
works of art in the apartment.
It was a huge grim place, which seemed to be half a prison, half a
fortress--a place wherein dwelt the ghosts of a glorious long-forgotten
past. There was an air of neglect and decay about its time-mellowed
court-yard, some of the walls of which were half-hidden by ivy. One of
the round towers indeed was roofless, while what had once been an
Italian flower-bed was now but a wilderness of weeds.
Outside the sun shone brightly, and, from its position, we concluded the
hour must be nearly noon. Then, all at once we simultaneously caught
the sound of footsteps. Some one was coming very softly apparently,
along a carpeted passage outside the door. I went across to the sofa,
lay down, and pretended to be asleep, Faulkner following my example,
lying back in the big chair. At the door the footsteps stopped. There
was a pause. Then a key was inserted into the lock almost noiselessly,
the lock clicked, the handle turned, and the door was pushed open a
little way.
Somebody bent over me. I breathed heavily, in pretence of sleep. The
footsteps moved away, and, as I parted my eyelids slightly, I saw a
woman--quite a young girl. She had her back to me and was bending over
Faulkner apparently to ascertain if he too, were asleep. Acting upon a
sudden impulse I sprang from the sofa, ran to the door, slammed it, and
stood with my back to it.
To my surprise the girl looked at me quite calmly.
"I knew you would do that m'sieur," she said, and her voice, though she
spoke with a marked French accent, was very pleasant. "Did you think
that I supposed you both were asleep? Ah, non, your friend here is wide
awake, though he too keeps his eyes shut and his mouth open."
The girl was quite pretty, about eighteen I judged, refined in
appearance, with large, innocent brown eyes, dark eyelashes and
eyebrows, and auburn hair that turned to shining gold as the sun's rays,
entering at the window, touched it.
As she stopped speaking, Faulkner opened his eyes, sat up, and stared at
her with undisguised admiration. Then, as the absurdity of the
situation struck us, we both laughed.
"Whoever you are," I said, trying to speak seriously, though, under the
circumstances, and with a pretty girl staring into my face, with an
expression in her eyes that was partly of amusement and partly mockery,
I found it hard to do so. "Whoever you are, I should really like an
explanation."
"Explanation of what?"
"I want to know why we have been brought here--what place this is, and
who had the cool impertinence to lock us in here."
"Oh, _I_ had the cool impertinence to lock you in," she answered,
smiling.
"You! And who are you? And whose house is this?"
"This is the Chateau d'Uzerche. It belongs to the Baronne de Coudron.
I am the Baronne's niece."
"The Chateau d'Uzerche--eh?"
I could not for the moment, think of anything else to say. The girl
spoke quite naturally, as though nothing unusual had occurred.
"I am going to bring your dejeuner in a minute," she said, drawing down
the blinds to keep out the sun. "Will you both give me your word you
won't leave this room if I leave the door unlocked? Please do--for my
sake."
She looked so captivating as she said this, her voice was so soft, and
altogether she seemed so charming, that Faulkner at once answered that
he had not the least desire to leave the room if she would promise to
come back as quickly as possible, and to stay a little while.
"Then you will promise?" she asked, her big eyes set on his.
"How foolish! Why?" I asked, interrupting. "Well," she replied. "If
you will remain here I will bring you a visitor."
"A visitor?"
"Yes," she laughed. "Somebody you know."
"Who?"
"A great friend of yours."