white on the front of the houses. Oscar was a friendly companion; but he
could not be expected to notice that his master glanced somewhat
nervously along South Bank when he had reached the entrance to that
thoroughfare. Apparently the place was quite deserted; there was nothing
visible but the walls, trees, and houses, one side in black shadow, the
other shining cold and pale in the moonlight. After a moment's
hesitation Macleod resumed his walk, though he seemed to tread more
softly.

And now, in the perfect silence, he neared a certain house, though but
little of it was visible over the wall and through the trees. Did he
expect to see a light in one of those upper windows, which the drooping
acacias did not altogether conceal. He walked quickly by, with his head
averted. Oscar had got a good way in front, not doubting that his master
was following him.

But Macleod, perhaps having mustered up further courage, stopped in his
walk, and returned. This time he passed more slowly, and turned his head
to the house, as if listening. There was no light in the windows; there
was no sound at all; there was no motion but that of the trembling
acacia leaves as the cold wind of the night stirred them. And then he
passed over to the south side of the thoroughfare, and stood in the
black shadow of a high wall; and Oscar came and looked up into his face.

A brougham rattled by; then there was utter stillness again; and the
moonlight shone on the front of the small house; which was to all
appearances as lifeless as the grave. Then, far away, twelve o'clock
struck, and the sound seemed distant as the sound of a bell at sea in
this intense quiet.