He went into the castle after a while, his walk slow and thoughtful, and John returned with the horse to the stables.  All the rest of the day, he worked with such diligence and effect that Walther bade him rest.

“You may go about the castle as much as you please,” he said, “and you may enter the part set aside for the servants, but you must stop there.  Nor can you go beyond the immediate castle grounds.  If you try it you risk a shot from the sentries.”

“I’ve no wish to be shot and so I’ll not risk it,” said John, with the utmost sincerity, and after bathing his face and hands, he strolled through the grounds of Zillenstein, his course soon and inevitably leading him toward the addition to the right wing from the windows of which lights were shining.  Yet the grounds outside were heavy with shrubbery, and, keeping hidden in it, he advanced farther and farther, eager to see.

He was not yet twenty yards from the walls and he saw human figures passing before the windows.  Then a dark form presently slipped from a small door and stood a moment or two on the graveled walk, as if undecided.  John felt the pulses beating hard in his temples.  He knew that stalwart figure.  It was none other than the grim and faithful Suzanne and, daring all, he went to the very edge of the shrubbery, calling in a loud whisper: 

“Suzanne!  Suzanne!”

She stood attentive, glanced about, and, seeing that no one observed her, came to the edge of the deep shadow.

“Suzanne!  Suzanne!” called John again.  “It is I, John Scott!  Have you any message for me from Mademoiselle Julie?”

She looked again to see that none was near, and then stepped boldly into the shrubbery, where John seized her arm half in entreaty and half to hurry her.

“O, Suzanne!  Suzanne!” he repeated, with fierce insistence.  “Have you any word for me?”

They were completely in the heavy shadow now, between the short clipped pines, where no one, even but a few feet away, could see, and before replying she looked at him, her grim face relaxing into a smile.  She had always watched him before with a sort of angry jealousy, but John believed that he now read welcome and gladness in her eyes.

“Suzanne!  Suzanne!” he repeated, his insistence ever growing stronger.  “Is there no word for me?”

“Aye,” she said, “my mistress bids me tell you that she is grateful, that she understands all you have risked for her sake, that she can never repay you sufficiently for your great service, and that she feels safer because you are near.”

“Ah,” breathed John, “it is worth every risk to hear that.”

“But she fears for you.  She knows that you are in great danger here.  If they discover who you are, you perish at once as a spy.  So she bids me tell you to go away.  It is easy to escape from here to the Italian frontier.  She would not have you lose your life for her.”