diently.

A shadow crossed de Lacy's handsome face. For the first time he
hesitated. "There is no one here that answers that description. May I
ask why you----"

"My friend saw her on the stairway."

I caught a murmur from de Lacy's lips, "So soon!" it sounded like, but
before I could question further, he said aloud, "I have leave to depart
and join my lady?" And before I could answer, he bowed himself away to
take a seat at one of the tables below.

Wrexler looked over his wine goblet. "The man lied. I saw recognition of
the description in his eyes."

"We'll get the truth out of him later," I countered. "Isn't it fine to
actually eat chicken with your fingers, and not feel you are committing
a social error!"

* * * * *

We did not get any information out of de Lacy later. To Wrexler's
insistent questionings he was at first non-committal, and after a bit,
downright curt. I poured oil on the troubled waters by suggesting that
as it was late, we would wait until morning to see the library and the
left wing of the chateau.

With a smile of relief, de Lacy ushered us to our chambers. My retiring
was a kind of ceremony. It amused me, but I had a nagging little thought
in the back of my mind that all this etiquette would become boring after
a while.

As the last man bowed himself out of my room, de Lacy bent low. "My
lord, there are guards at your door. You have only to call if you
require anything."

I thanked him once more. Greatly to my embarrassment, he again kissed my
hand. "Your servant to the death!" he cried, and drew the curtains about
my high-canopied bed.

I knew that outside the red damask, two huge candles were burning, but
the curtain shut out their light and I was smothered in darkness. I made
a mental note that I must arrange somehow for air in my room. The French
idea of banishing night air did not coincide with my American habits.
Tonight I was too weary to get up and attend to it. My thoughts were
racing back and forth among the strange events of the day, but before I
could focus them into any kind of order, sleep descended upon me.

I had a strange dream. In it, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen
came and parted the red damask curtains. Framed against the dark oak
panels of my room, she stood looking down upon me. Her hair was red
gold, and her eyes had all the sapphire tints of the world stored in
their depths. Her pale, white face was oval in shape and