. . .
Surely, strange noises haunted this alley. . . .
I listened. I knew that I must be standing near the small door in
the wall, though in the darkness I could not see it. The sinister
sound was not repeated. I could be sworn, though, that my eyes had
heard it; and still, for two minutes perhaps, I stood listening, my
face lifted towards the wall's coping. Then indeed I heard
something--not at all that for which I strained my ears, but a soft
muffled footfall on the snow behind me--and faced about on it,
clutching at the sailor's knife I wore in my belt.
It was a woman. She had almost blundered into me as I stood in the
shadow of the wall, and now, within reach of my arm, drew back with a
gasp of terror. Terror indeed held her numb while I craned forward,
peering into her face.
"Signorina Bianca!"
"But what--what brings you?" she stammered, still between quick gasps
for breath.
In the darkness, close by, a door slammed.
"Ah!" said I, drawing in my breath. Stretching out a hand, I laid it
on her shoulder, from which the cloak fell away, disclosing a frosty
glint of tinsel.
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