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RV 207 room without stopping. He walked a little way down the upper hall, turning his back upon the ascending inner stair. A window at the end showed him the influence of the moon, now beginning to shine and make herself felt above the twilight. The light, diffused and gray, was still enough for him to see the door he wanted. His foot touched a small, dark object crouched in front of it. The dog, Beetles, was pressed against it with his nose flung up to the crack and his tail beating the floor. This little creature was accustomed to run in and out of Blanche's room at all hours, taking liberties with her time and her good nature. Now he snuggled and scratched the obstinate wood and complained. He paid no attention to the man's whistling to him, under breath. He knew no divided mind had one object.

Carron knocked very softly. Not a stir from within. He knocked again, as softly, but repeatedly. This time a smothered voice spoke.

"Who is there?"

The dog went into ecstasies of expectation. Carron did not reply; that would have been the end. He only knocked. This time he heard a step. It came slowly and stopped just on the other side of the panels. She might even have put her mouth to the crack, so plainly the words came.

"What do you want?"