“Impossible, slave.”
“’Tis true, fair lady; but, hush, I hear footsteps! hush!”
Ellen did not hear the slightest sound, and seemed to think the slave was mistaken.
But he was not.
He crept to the chamber door on his hands and feet, and listened.
He held up his finger in token of silence.
Ellen Harmer sat rooted to her seat.
She listened, but not a sound was audible.
“It is the king,” said the Nubian, in the faintest of whispers. “He came to the house in a good disguise, but I recognised him.”
“If it be the king, then,” said Ellen, “I will throw myself at his feet, and ask protection from the fiendish designs of your master, Colonel Blood.”