CHAPTER XII.
THE NIGHT That night, Josephine St.Auban did not sleep.

For hours she tossed about, listening.

Infrequently, sounds came to her ears.
Through the window came now and again faint notes of night-faring birds, south bound on their autumnal migration.

Once in a while a distant step resounded in the great building, or again there came the distant voices of the negroes singing in their quarters beyond.
The house had ceased its daily activities.

The servants had left it.