“You are quite safe,” she declared. “The secret passage has not been used for many years. It is unknown to any within the palace. I do not know what made me think of it to-night.”
“It was,” Brand remarked, “a remarkable piece of good fortune for me. I do not fancy that our friend Domiloff in a passion would be at all a pleasant companion.”
Her face hardened.
“Domiloff,” she said, “is a traitor and a ruffian. When I saw you alone with him and without Nicholas I knew that something must have happened. My brother would never have suffered him to have stood by your side to-night. This way.”
They stepped into a large dimly-lit room, with high panelled walls and a vaulted roof. The door rolled back behind them. The girl passed her hands along the wall till even the crack was invisible. Then she moved to the table and struck a gong.
“You must need wine,” she said. “Basil!”
A grey-haired old servant entered the room, and at the sight of Brand would have fallen upon one knee, but the girl stopped him.
“Basil, this is not Prince Ughtred,” she said, “but a friend of his and ours who has been taking the Prince’s place in order that Domiloff might be deceived. Bring us some wine.”
Brand drank from the long Venetian glass, and afterwards sank gratefully into the high-backed chair to which she motioned him. At her request he told her everything which had happened since the coming of Reist to London. And from below there came to them often the murmur of the waiting crowds.
She was superbly devoid of nerves. She had no manner of apprehension.