He stood on the graveled walk
for a few minutes directly in a flood of silver rays, every feature
showing clearly. He had been arrogant and domineering, but John liked
him far better than Auersperg. His cruelty would be the cruelty of
battle, and there might be a streak of sentimentalism hidden under the
stiff and harsh German manner, like a vein of gold in rock. As von
Boehlen resumed his approach to the house he passed from John's range of
vision, and then the prisoner watched the horizon for anything that he
might see. Twice he beheld the far flare of searchlights, but nobody
else came to the chateau, and the night darkened somewhat. No rattle of
arms or stamp of hoofs came from the hussars in the grounds, and he
judged that all but the sentinels slept. Nor was there any sound of
movement in the house, and in the peaceful silence he at last began to
feel sleepy. The problems of his position were too great for him to
solve--at least for the present--and lying down on the cot he was fast
asleep before he knew it.
Youth does not always sleep soundly, and the tension of John's nerves
continued long after he lapsed into unconsciousness. That, perhaps, was
the reason why he awoke at once when the heavy key began to turn again
in the lock. He sat up on the cot--he had not undressed--and his hand
instinctively slipped to his belt, where there was no weapon.
The key was certainly turning in the lock, and then the door was
opening! A shadow appeared in the space between door and wall, and
John's first feeling was of apprehension.
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