I just caught the train I wanted, changed at Maidenhead, and arrived at
Marlow by half-past eight o'clock. This time I had neither leisure nor
inclination to walk, as upon my first visit to the place on Christmas
Day, but took a fly, and offered the man an extra fare if he would make
haste.

A little short of the House by the Lock I stopped him. A certain
instinct seemed to bid me not be too ostentatious in the manner of
announcing my arrival. I got out, and by the light of a round, red moon
rising over black trees in the east I glanced at my watch. It was
five-and-twenty past nine. The whole day, since my arrival at
Southampton in the morning, had gone in searching for Karine, and it
might be that I was as far from success now as I had been in the
beginning.

A hundred yards away a small yellow light shone steadily through the
moon-tinged darkness. I thought it came from the House by the Lock,
though the one poor ray made but scant cheer of illumination for a
bride's homecoming.

"Wait here for me," I said to the driver. "I may come within half an
hour, I may be much longer; but, at all events, wait. Here is a
sovereign for you, and you shall have as much again when I return."

The tone of his voice told me that he was suspicious, as well as
curious, regarding the mysterious intentions of his fare; but I was sure
that he would not fail me. Two pounds were not to be so easily picked up
every evening.

I walked on rapidly. As I approached the House by the Lock I lost sight
of the yellow gleam which for some time had guided me, but the moon
glinted bleakly on the staring panes of dark, upper windows.

Desolate as the place had appeared at the hour of sunset, it had had an
air of hospitable welcome at that time compared to that which it wore
now. Never, it seemed to me, had I seen a habitation so grim, so
silently suggestive of haunting, evil things. The face of the moon, as
it rose, lost the ruddy hue which had coloured it nearer the horizon,
and its paling disc was swept by black and ragged storm clouds. The wind
moaned through the trees like the wail of a lost soul, and there was a
stealthy, monotonous lapping of the dark waters so close at hand.

Other sound there was none, and, though I had seen the small ray from a
distance, now--so far as I could ascertain--not a window in the whole
gloomy pile was lighted.

I went up the path, knocked, and rang the bell, which sent back jangling
echoes, such as belong in