“Nay, I will tell you everything—come!”
He drew me rapidly forward, threading the darkness like a night bird. We mounted steps winding upward till I was sick and dizzy. At last he passed into what seemed to me a small circular room, high in one of the towers.
“Sit down,” he said, pressing a hand upon my shoulder till I sunk into a seat that yielded to my weight. “Sit down and keep still, we are alone, high above the earth; the stars, which those of your blood should read like a parchment, are all hidden. It has a bad look for the future, but this is the appointed hour.”
He paused a moment, and seemed to be leaning from a narrow window interrogating the darkness. He turned abruptly and said,
“You saw Lord Clare, this morning?”
“Yes.”
“And he is dying?”
“Alas! I fear so.”
“How many days first?”
“What!” I exclaimed, shocked by the coldness with which he questioned me.