"Who's there?"
"A traveler who has lost his way."
"You cannot come in. Sibyl isn't afraid, but she wishes to be alone."
Nevertheless, the woman stood aside and held the door wide. This seemed invitation enough, and the detective at once crossed the floor, and pushed to the door at his back.
The female receded before him, and stood at the far side of the room, with both hands extended, waving them gently up and down.
"Come no nearer, sir; Sibyl would view you from afar. There, stand where you are, and do not move. It may be that you are the one I have been looking for all these years."
The speaker was evidently young, and possessed a weirdly beautiful face, that strangely attracted Dyke Darrel. He stood still and watched her singular movements curiously.
She drew a morocco case from her bosom, opened it, and gazed at something, evidently a picture, long and earnestly. She seemed to be comparing the face of the picture with that of her visitor.
Dyke Darrel was puzzled, and somewhat pleased.
"No, you are not my Hubert; he was a nobler looking gentleman by far."