middle of the floor. And
then she began to sweep out that room.

There was small scope for an exhibition of resource, but I was as
resourceful as I was able. I very gently pulled the scanty table-cloth
first in one direction and then in the other, according to the side of
the room she was sweeping, and as noiselessly as possible I crept a
foot or two farther away from her each time. And all the while the
dust rose in clouds, and the hateful broom came so near me that it
sometimes brushed my boots. And yet the extraordinary woman never
showed by a single sign that she had any suspicion of my presence!

At last when the whole floor had been swept--except of course under the
table--she paused, and from the glimpse I could get of her attitude she
seemed to be ruminating. And then she stooped, lifted the edge of the
cloth, and said in an absolutely matter-of-fact voice--

"Will you not better get out till I'm through with my sweeping?"

Too utterly bewildered to speak, I crept out and rose to my feet.

"You can get under the table again when I'm finished," she observed as
she pulled off the cloth.

To such an observation there seemed no adequate reply, or at least I
could think of none. I turned in silence and hurried back to my
bedroom. And there I sat for a space too dumfounded for coherent
thought.

Gradually I began to recover my wits and ponder over this mysterious
affair, and a theory commenced to take shape. Clearly she was insane,
or at least half-witted, and was quite incapable of drawing reasonable
conclusions. And the more I thought it over, the more did several
circumstances seem to confirm this view. My fire, for instance, with
its smoke coming out of the chimney, and the supply of peat and
firewood which Tiel or I were constantly bringing up. Had she noticed
nothing of that? Also Tiel's frequent ascents of this back staircase
to a part of the house supposed to be closed. She must be half-witted.

And then I began to recall her brisk eye and capable air, and the idiot
theory resolved into space. Only one alternative seemed left. She
must be spying upon us, and aware of my presence all the time! But if
so, what could I do? I felt even more helpless than I did that first
night when my motor-cycle broke down. I could only sit and wait,
revolver in hand.

When I heard Tiel's step at last on the stairs, I confess that my
nerves were not at their best.

"We are betrayed!" I exclaimed.