"Bide here a moment," said Clerk Henriet, bending his body in a
writhing contortion to listen to what might be going on inside the
chamber; "I dare not take you in till I see whether my lord be in good
case to receive you."
So at the stair-head, by a window lattice which looked towards the
chapel, Laurence stood and waited. At first he kept quite still and
listened with pleasure to the distant singing of the boys. He could
even hear Precentor Renouf occasionally stop and rebuke them for
inattention or singing out of tune.
"_My soul is like a watered garden,
And I shall not sorrow any more at all!_"
So he hummed as he listened, and beat the time on the ledge with his
fingers. He felt singularly content. Now he was on the eve of
penetrating the mystery. At last he would discover where the missing
maidens were concealed.
But soon he began to look about him, growing, like the boy he was,
quickly weary of inaction. His eye fell upon a strange door with
curious marks burnt upon its panels apparently by hot irons. There
were circles complete and circles that stopped half-way, together with
letters of some unknown language arranged mostly in triangles.
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