He resumed his pacing, though more slowly now, and even when his back was turned to the door, he moved, as a Spaniard would say, with his beard upon his shoulder. That door haunted him! It was in vain that he tried to divert his mind from it by examining the objects of art contained in the room: a rectangle of wood, seven feet by three, proved a greater attraction than oriental alabaster or porphyry vases. Many minutes had now passed, yet Wilfrid still remained the only person in the apartment. Growing impatient at this long delay he went to the door by which he had entered, and peeped out into the gallery. He could not see anybody, nor could he hear the sound of coming footsteps. No sound at all, far or near. “Truly, they are quiet people in the Michaelhof,” muttered Wilfrid, as he closed the door again. The midnight hour and the deadly silence, the mysterious character of this chamber, with its windows sealed against the light of day, but above all, the strange door, began to tell upon Wilfrid’s nerves. Was it fancy merely, or did he catch a glimpse of it in the act of closing, just as he was withdrawing his gaze from the gallery? The more he dwelt upon Alexis’ oddity of manner, the stronger became his suspicion that the door gave access to something strange, something that was a matter of fear to Alexis. If the mystery were one to be solved merely by opening the door, then Wilfrid would solve it; if the door were locked, his curiosity would, of course, be baffled; even his boldness would hardly proceed to the length of breaking the lock of a door belonging to the Czar’s palace. Lifting the lamp, the only one in the apartment, from the table, Wilfrid, albeit somewhat slowly, went forward, fancying as he did so that he saw the door vibrate, an illusion due, perhaps, to the oscillating lamp. Reaching the door he stood there for a time, hesitating, for all his boldness. He held his ear close to the panels, but failed to detect either sound or movement; he applied his eye to the keyhole; darkness was upon the other side. He drew his sword as a precaution against he knew not what. As it is somewhat difficult for a man holding an object in each hand to turn the knob of a door, Wilfrid resolved to place the lamp on the floor in such a position that its rays would illumine the room beyond as soon as he should have swung the door open. As he stooped to lower the lamp, his eye was caught by some dark stains, varying in shape and size. He raised the lamp again, and looked round about. The stains were nowhere else, only there, just around the door, and along one side of the wall at the foot of the arras. Something had happened there, and it was the knowledge of that event that had put fear upon the mind of Alexis. Setting the lamp upon the floor, Wilfrid rose to his full height, and placing his fingers upon the knob turned it, and at the same time with a push of his foot he sent the door flying wide.