His back was turned toward me.

A candle was lit before him, and he bent over the flame, the light from it projecting shapeless shadows.

I saw nothing but a monstrous, stooping back.
"Mademoiselle Stangerson herself was not there!--Her bed had not been lain on! Where, then, was she sleeping that night?
Doubtless in the side-room with her women.

Perhaps this was but a guess.

I must content myself with the joy of finding the man alone.