Broad bars of golden light from the lower windows stretched across the orchard and the moor.

One of them was suddenly shut off.

The servants had left the kitchen.

There only remained the lamp in the dining-room where the two men, the murderous host and the unconscious guest, still chatted over their cigars.
Every minute that white woolly plain which covered one half of the moor was drifting closer and closer to the house.

Already the first thin wisps of it were curling across the golden square of the lighted window.