Before I e a. And a moment later, before I even opened my eyes, I kne .

        Gone    oo, tangle, and from it tered a s illuminated every aspey room. It    I felt a surge of joy, as t    just a nig    er. It was as if spring had e.

        t ently into tir, ely jumped do to go out. I pulled my clot on, and    doairs togeto tche garden.

        I realized my mistake t I stepped outdoors. It    day. It    t moonlig soues of tatuary figures. I stopped still and stared at t    circle, ood till daybreak, but t, impatient, pressed my ankles for attention, and I bent to stroke ouco pause a few yards off and look over his shoulder.

        I turned up t, ss and followed.

        do tly; on t turned into t te borders of box t surrouerns ted in and out of t, simes I    an ao catc perfectly; a sudden vie oak tree, etcy against t I could not stop. All time, t stalked oail raised like a tuide’s umbrella signaling to t bordered tain pool and padded s perimeter, ign tion t ser like a brig ttom of traarden, o.

        U and rigent. Sa of sigo.

        Curious, I tiptoed foro stand where he had, and look around.

        A er garden is colorful    t time of day, at t time of year. Largely it depends on daylig it to life. t visitor o look o see its attras. It oo dark to see t too early in tness of snooo cold for to release its fragracs branced rembling yelloassels, but for no    tra. Fine and leafless, tely king randomly and    restraint.

        At its foot, te of a human figure.

        I froze.

        ted laboriously, releasing gasping puffs of breatful grunts.

        In a long, sloo explain ter’s garden at nigantly    needing even to t tart, it    Maurieeling on t unlikely person to find in t never occurred to me to     Judit, calm, Judit    in t? Impossible. I did not o sider t.

        Instead, in t sed, my mind reeled to and fro a imes bets.

        It er.

        It couldn’t be Miss inter.

        It er because… because it ell. I could se. It was .

        It couldn’t be er er oo uo pluck out a    alone cr tic fashion.

        It    Miss inter.

        But somee everyt was.

        t first sed    finally came, was sudden.

        the figure froze… swiveled… rose… and I knew.

        Miss inter’s eyes. Brilliant, supernatural green.

        But not Miss inter’s face.

        A patctled fles told of former beauty, ted graft of we flesh.

        Emmeline! Miss inter’s this house!

        My mind urmoil; blood    me unblinking, and I realized sartled t still, so be u into immobility.

        S to recover. In an urgeure soward me and, in a ring of senseless sounds.

        Be slo even stammer urned and    of t. retcook er ch of ed-up soil.

        Foxes indeed.

        O o persuade myself t I . t I    in my sleep I    Adelio me and , unintelligible message. But I k infuriating, tuneless five-note fragment. La la la la la.

        I stood, listening, until it faded pletely away.

        t my feet and urned back to the house.
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