her know it. He rounded the curve of the castle
wall. He must be close to her now. And then suddenly he stopped dead.
For he heard her mocking laughter, and it came from behind him, from the
turret through which he had gained the ramparts.

He wheeled round with something like violence and began to retrace his
steps. He had never been so baffled before, and he was angry,--hotly
angry.

He rounded the curve once more, and approached the turret. His eyes were
accustomed to the dim half-light, but still he could not see her. Fuming,
he went back the whole distance along the ramparts till he came to the
iron-clamped door that had banged behind him. He put forth an impatient
hand to open it, for it was obvious that she must have eluded him by
hiding behind it, and now she was probably on the stair. And then, very
suddenly, from far behind him, in the direction of the northern wall, he
heard her laugh again.

He swung about in a fury, almost too incensed to be amazed. She had the
wings of a Mercury, it was evident; but he would catch her--he would
catch her now, or perish in the attempt. Once more he traversed the stony
promenade between the double line of battlements, searching each
embrasure as he went.

All the way back to the wall on the north side he pursued his way with
fierce intention, inwardly raging, outwardly calm. He reached the
obstructing wall, and found nothing. The emptiness came all about him
again. The ghostly quiet of the place clung like a tangible veil. She had
evaded him again. He was powerless.

But at that point his wrath suddenly burst into flame, the hotter and the
fiercer for its long restraint. He wheeled in his tracks with furious
finality and abandoned his quest.

His intention was to go straight down by the way he had come and leave
her to play her will-o'-the-wisp game in solitude. It would soon pall
upon her, he was assured; but in any case he would no longer dance to her
piping. She had fooled him to the verge of frenzy.

Again he rounded the curve of the wall and came to the door of the
turret. A great bastion of stone rose beside this, and as he reached it a
small white figure darted forward from its shadow with dainty, butterfly
movements, pulled at the heavy oak door and held it open with an
elaborate gesture for him to pass.

It was a piece of exquisite daring, and with an older man it would have
taken effect. Saltash would have laughed his quizzing, cynical laugh and
accepted