thereof, or perhaps by some occurrence thereabout, I might
arrive at some idea of how to proceed. The drawbridge was not up, but
the gates were closed. From where I sat, I could see the gate towers, a
part of the outer wall, the turreted top of the chateau itself beyond
the court, and the great high tower, which looked very ancient and
sombre. But the more I looked, the more nearly impossible it appeared
that I could devise means of getting into the place and to the ear of
the Countess.

As I was gazing at the chateau, I had a feeling that the man at the
other table was gazing at me. I glanced at him, but seemed to have been
mistaken. He was looking absently at the sky over my head. I now took
thought of what a very silent, motionless, undemonstrative man this was.
He was thin and oldish, and of moderate stature, with a narrow face,
pale eyes, and a very long nose. He was dressed in dull brown cloth, and
was in all respects--save his length of nose--one of those persons of
whom nobody ever takes much note. And he in turn did not seem to take
much note of the world. He looked at the sky, the house roofs and the
road, but his thoughts did not appear to concern themselves with these
things, or with anything, unless with the wine which he, like myself,
sipped in a leisurely manner.

I dismissed him from my attention, and resumed my observation of the
chateau. But nobody came nor went, the gates did not open, nothing
happened to give me an idea. When I looked again at the other table, the
long-nosed man was gone. It was as if he had simply melted away.

"Who was the man sitting there?" I asked the woman of the cabaret.

"I don't know, Monsieur. He arrived here this morning. I never saw him
before to-day."

In the evening I went back to Montoire, no nearer the solution of my
problem than before. Nor did a sleepless night help me any: I formed a
dozen fantastic schemes, only to reject every one of them as impossible.
What made all this worse, was the consideration that time might be of
the utmost importance in the affairs of the imperilled lady.

The next morning I went to view the chateau from other points than the
village cabaret. This time I took the way the messenger had led
me,--turned down the lane, and traversed the fields by the moat. I sat
where I had hid the day before; staring at the postern and the wall,
over which birds flew now and then, indicating that there was a garden
on the other side. Receiving no su