A dreamy sense of content crept over him. Opening the door he then stepped into a dark narrow passage leading, as he was well aware, to the chapel. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. Before the full sentence was carried into execution, he was taken into a small room adjoining the court. While the carpenter irresolutely quitted the room, with a strong presentiment of ill upon his mind, a light quick step was heard descending the stairs, and before he could call out to prevent it, a man was admitted into the passage.
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