It was my duty, however, to protect my love, no matter at what cost. I had come there for that purpose, having a distinct foreboding that some deadly peril surrounded her; therefore, now was my time to act, to meet that woman face to face and to demand an explanation. Upon this decision I acted without further delay, for creeping as noiselessly as she had done, I reached the door and slowly turned the handle in order to burst in unexpectedly upon her. The handle turned, but the door would not open; she had locked it behind her. I bent to the keyhole. All was dark within. There was no sound. The noise I had made by trying the door had, no doubt, alarmed her, and she was standing within preparing to make a sudden dash for liberty. I drew myself up at the door prepared. Those moments were full of excitement. I held my breath, straining my ears to listen. There was no sound. The silence was like that of the grave. My love was within that room, and her enemy was at her side! Should I arouse the household? Again I hesitated, fearing lest I should compromise Beryl. Of a sudden, however, I recollected that in many houses the doors of the bedrooms frequently bear similar locks, and finding that the key had been removed by the intruder--possibly for the purpose of watching my movements from the inside--it occurred to me that I might try the key of my own room. Yet if I left my post she might escape; she was evidently watching her opportunity. Fully ten minutes passed, each second ticked out loudly by the long grandfather's clock at the end of the corridor, until I could stand the tension no longer, and, receding slowly backwards, with my eyes still upon the door, ready for La Gioia's dash for liberty, I reached my own room and secured the key. Then, slipping back again, I placed the key swiftly in the lock, heedless of the noise it made, and turned it. The lock yielded, and a second later I stood within the room. An involuntary cry of amazement escaped me, and I drew back. I dashed towards the bed, but it had not been slept in. The room, with its great mirror draped with silk, and its silver toilet-set catching the pale light, was empty! The window stood open, and, springing towards it, I saw to my dismay a rope-ladder reaching to the ground. Both La Gioia and my well-beloved had disappeared. I looked out, but all was dark across the park. The night wind rustled in the trees, and a dog was howling dismally in the kennels. Could Beryl have been awaiting La Gioia, and have left in her company? The discovery utterly dismayed me.