The light of the lamp fell fairly on her face, and the newcomer saw her plainly.
He uttered a shout of astonishment and staggered back, his eyes opened to their widest and his manner betraying the utmost consternation.
“Is it possible!” he grated.
Then he clutched the old man by the shoulder, snarling:
“Confound your treacherous old hide! You have betrayed me. You said the woman was Isa Isban, and she is——”
The girl interrupted him with a laugh.
“You seem excited,” she said. “I am Isa Isban, and no one else.”
He took a step toward her, his face working and his hands clinched.
“How did you get here ahead of me?” he hoarsely demanded.
“In the most natural manner possible,” she answered. “A friend brought me, Mr. Kent.”