lf from his acquaintances, he might choose to go in and out
by a private entrance. The footsteps drew near, crushing the wet
gravel, passed by, and seemed to pause somewhere near the balcony; and
them flame lit up the sky again and the thunder burst forth once more.

But this was its last great peal. The storm was at an end. Only
fainter and fainter rumblings and mutterings and paler and paler darts
followed. Even they were soon over, and the cataracts in the paths had
rushed themselves silent. But the darkness was still deep.

It was deep to blackness in the hollow of the evergreen. Marco stood
in it, streaming with rain, but feeling nothing because he was full of
thought. He pushed aside his greenery and kept his eyes on the place
in the blackness where the windows must be, though he could not see
them. It seemed that he waited a long time, but he knew it only seemed
so really. He began to breathe quickly because he was waiting for
something.

Suddenly he saw exactly where the windows were--because they were all
lighted!

His feeling of relief was great, but it did not last very long. It was
true that something had been gained in the certainty that his man had
not left Vienna. But what next? It would not be so easy to follow him
if he chose only to go out secretly at night. What next? To spend the
rest of the night watching a lighted window was not enough. To-morrow
night it might not be lighted. But he kept his gaze fixed upon it. He
tried to fix all his will and thought-power on the person inside the
room. Perhaps he could reach him and make him listen, even though he
would not know that any one was speaking to him. He knew that thoughts
were strong things. If angry thoughts in one man's mind will create
anger in the mind of another, why should not sane messages cross the
line?

"I must speak to you. I must speak to you!" he found himself saying in
a low intense voice. "I am outside here waiting. Listen! I must speak
to you!"

He said it many times and kept his eyes fixed upon the window which
opened on to the balcony. Once he saw a man's figure cross the room,
but he could not be sure who it was. The last distant rumblings of
thunder had died away and the clouds were breaking. It was not long
before the dark mountainous billows broke apart, and a brilliant full
moon showed herself sailing in the rift, suddenly flooding everything
with light. Parts of the garden were silver white, and