"It is because—I am your friend," I said.
In a voice full of excitement the Red Fox, pounding upon the outer door, demanded admittance. Like the knocking on the door in the play of Macbeth, the interruption brought us back to a realization of the things of the world without. We sprang to our feet and faced each other.
"Do you believe me, Solonika?" I whispered.
Noiselessly she pushed the curtains aside at the head of the couch upon which her large French hat and red parasol were lying. Behind the curtains a door stood open, revealing a pair of stone steps leading down into the darkness.
"Go, go!" she whispered in turn. I knew how much she was risking in thus giving me my freedom.
"Good-bye, Solonika," I said, pausing upon the top step.
She held out her hand and I pressed it reverently against my lips.
"Good-bye, my—friend," she said.
The curtain fell, shutting off the light, but I did not go down the steps. I waited behind the curtain and heard her open the door to the Red Fox.
"What is the matter?" he cried, rushing into the room. "Therese said something had happened to you."