"
The woman turned calm, lack-lustre eyes on her, and silently
pocketed the gold piece with a grudgingly muttered word of thanks.
Chauvelin during this brief interlude, had walked thoughtlessly on
ahead. Marguerite, peering down the length of the narrow
corridor, spied his sable-clad figure some hundred metres further
on as it crossed the dim circle of light thrown by one of the
lamps.
She was about to follow, when it seemed to her as if some one was
moving in the darkness close beside her. The wardress was even
now in the act of closing the door of her cubicle, and there were
a couple of soldiers who were disappearing from view round one end
of the passage, whilst Chauvelin's retreating form was lost in the
gloom at the other.
There was no light close to where she herself was standing, and
the blackness around her was as impenetrable as a veil; the sound
of a human creature moving and breathing close to her in this
intense darkness acted weirdly on her overwrought nerves.
"Qui va la?" she called.
There was a more distinct movement among the shadows this time, as
of a swift tread on the flagstones of the corridor. All else was
silent round, and now she could plainly hear those footsteps
running rapidly down the passage away from her.
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