Juliet drew herself cautiously up, till her head was in the chimney, and her eyes level with the slip of glass.
With a sudden shock of surprise she saw that she was looking into the room which, above all others, she had so much cause to remember ever having entered.
It was, indeed, the library of the castle, and she was looking at it from the inside of that clock into which Gimblet had once before seen Julia Romaninov vanish.
The curtains were drawn in the room, but after the absolute blackness of the stone corridors the semi-dusk looked nearly as bright as full daylight to Juliet, and she had no difficulty in distinguishing that there was but one person in the library, and that person Julia.
She was standing by a bookshelf at the far end, near the window, and seemed to be methodically engaged in an examination of the books. Juliet saw her take out first one, then another, musty, leather-bound volume, shake it, turn over the leaves, and put it back in its place after groping with her hand at the back of the shelf. Plainly she was hunting for something. But for what? She had no business where she was, in any case, and Juliet's indignation gathered and swelled within her as she watched this unwarrantable intrusion.
She would confront the girl and ask her what she meant by such behaviour. But how to get into the library?
Looking about her, she saw that the streak of light in the wall beside her came through a perpendicular crack which might well be the edge of a little door.
She pushed gently and the wood yielded to her fingers.