As soon as he was in the passage Gaspare
shut the door.
"I am sorry, Signore; the lamp is not lighted."
Artois felt at once an unusual atmosphere in the house, an atmosphere
not of confusion but of mystery, of secret curiosity, of brooding
apprehension. At the foot of the servants' staircase he heard a remote
sound of whispering, which emphasized the otherwise complete silence
of this familiar dwelling, suddenly become unfamiliar to him--
unfamiliar and almost dreadful.
"I had better go into the garden."
"Si, Signore."
Gaspare looked down the servants' staircase and hissed sharply:
"Sh! S-s-sh!"
"The Signora--?" asked Artois, as Gaspare came to him softly.
"The Signora is always in her room. She is shut up in her room."
"I saw the Signora just now, at the window," Artois said, in an
undervoice.
"You saw the Signora?"
Gaspare looked at him with sudden eagerness mingled with a flaming
anxiety.
"From the boat. She came to the window and let down the blind.
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