al's name and
the admiral's address written under them.

The Trust within reach of her hand! The Trust traced to its hiding-place
at last!

She took one step forward, to steal round his chair and to snatch the
letter from the table. At the instant when she moved, he took it up once
more, locked the cabinet, and, rising, turned and faced her.

In the impulse of the moment, she stretched out her hand toward the hand
in which he held the letter. The yellow candle-light fell full on him.
The awful death-in-life of his face--the mystery of the sleeping body,
moving in unconscious obedience to the dreaming mind--daunted her. Her
hand trembled, and dropped again at her side.

He put the key of the cabinet back in the basket, and crossed the room
to the bureau, with the basket in one hand and the letter in the other.
Magdalen set the candle on the table again, and watched him. As he had
opened the cabinet, so he now opened the bureau. Once more Magdalen
stretched out her hand, and once more she recoiled before the mystery
and the terror of his sleep. He put the letter in a drawer at the back
of the bureau, and closed the heavy oaken lid again. "Yes," he said.
"Safer there, as you say, Noel--safer there." So he spoke. So, time
after time, the words that betrayed him revealed the dead man living and
speaking again in the dream.

Had he locked the bureau? Magdalen had not heard the lock turn. As he
slowly moved away, walking back once more toward the middle of the room,
she tried the lid. It was locked. That discovery made, she looked to see
what he was doing next. He was leaving the room again, with the basket
of keys in his hand. When her first glance overtook him, he was crossing
the threshold of the door.

Some inscrutable fascination possessed her, some mysterious attraction
drew her after him, in spite of herself. She took up the candle and
followed him mechanically, as if she too were walking in her sleep.
One behind the other, in slow and noiseless progress, they crossed
the Banqueting-Hall. One behind the other, they passed through the
drawing-room, and along the corridor, and up the stairs. She followed
him to his own door. He went in, and shut it behind him softly. She
stopped, and looked toward the truckle-bed. It was pushed aside at the
foot, some little distance away from the bedroom door. Who had moved it?
She held the candle close and looked toward the pillow, with a sudden
curiosity and a sudden doubt.

T