It was impossible that a man could have clambered out over that without leaving some impression.

He reached the corner and found the clay intact; at least, nowhere could he discover a mark of hands or a footprint set as would be that of a man emerging from the water.
He retraced his steps and went back until he had reached the eastern angle of the chateau, yet always with the same result.

He straightened himself at last, and his manner was more calm; his frenzied haste was gone, and deliberately he now raised his torch and let its light shine again over the waters.

He pondered them a moment, his dark eyes musing almost regretfully.
"Drowned!" he said aloud, and sheathed his sword.
From the window overhead a voice hailed him.

He looked up and saw the Dowager, and, behind her, the figure of her son.