beneath the shadow of the eyebrows, two eyes of porcelain blue casting
clear fire, like those of a wolf crouching in the brushwood as it
hears the baying of the hounds. The uneasy gleam of those eyes was
turned on him so fixedly that, after receiving it for fully a minute,
during which he examined the singular sight, he felt like a bird at
which a setter points; a feverish tumult rose in his soul, but he
quickly repressed it. The two faces, strained and suspicious, were
doubtless those of Cornelius and his sister.

The young man feigned to be looking about him to see where he was, and
whether this were the house named on a card which he drew from his
pocket and pretended to read in the moonlight; then he walked straight
to the door and struck three blows upon it, which echoed within the
house as if it were the entrance to a cave. A faint light crept
beneath the threshold, and an eye appeared at a small and very strong
iron grating.

"Who is there?"

"A friend, sent by Oosterlinck, of Brussels."

"What do you want?"

"To enter."

"Your name?"

"Philippe Goulenoire."

"Have you brought credentials?"