And now, pursuing my aimless
way, I presently came in sight of a gable of the Guest House. I could
obtain a glimpse of the hut which had once been Colin Camber's
workroom. The window, through which Paul Harley had stared so intently,
possessed sliding panes. These were closed, and a ray of sunlight,
striking upon the glass, produced, because of an over-leaning branch
which crossed the top of the window, an effect like that of a giant eye
glittering evilly through the trees. I could see a constable moving
about in the garden. Ever and anon the sun shone upon the buttons of
his tunic.
By such steps my thoughts led me on to the pathetic figure of Ysola
Camber. Save for the faithful Ah Tsong she was alone in that house to
which tragedy had come unbidden, unforeseen. I doubted if she had a
woman friend in all the countryside. Doubtless, I reflected, the old
housekeeper, to whom she had referred, would return as speedily as
possible, but pending the arrival of someone to whom she could confide
all her sorrows, I found it almost impossible to contemplate the
loneliness of the tragic little figure.
Such was my mental state, and my thoughts were all of compassion, when
suddenly, like a lurid light, an inspiration came to me.
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