Not looking at one another anymore, thinking only about what they must do, they separated at the cabin door. She when down the trail that led north. On the path in the opposite direction he turned for a moment to watch her running, her hair loosened and flying. He turned again and ran, crouching among the trees and hedges until he reached the park. In the yellow fog of dusk, he could see the trees along the road which led up to the house. The dogs were not supposed to bark, and they did not bark. The estate manager would not be there at this hour, and he was not there. The man went up the three porch steps and entered the house. The woman’s words reached him over the sound of blood pounding in his ears: first a blue room, then a hall, then a carpeted stairway. At the top, two doors. No one in the first room, no one in the second. He walked through the door of the study and then, the dagger in his hand, saw the light from the great windows, the back of an armchair covered in green velvet, the head of the man in the chair reading a novel.