She supposed they would be friends again, she and Nap. She did not fear that he would ever again cross the boundary line. His love for his brother ran like a purifying current through his veins. It was the one streak of greatness in him. Its very selflessness made it stronger than his love for her. She knew with a certainty that nought could ever shake that he would be true to Lucas, that never again by word or sign would he betray that for which he had not scrupled to play her false.
And because she was a woman and understood him she forgave him this. For she knew that the greater loyalty had done for him that which she had failed to do. She knew that in uttermost self-sacrifice Nap Errol, the savage, the merciless, the treacherous, had found his soul.
So side by side in silence they went back to the house.
The evening was very still; passing in from the terrace they seemed to enter an enchanted palace wherein nothing stirred.
"He may be asleep," Nap said. "Shall I go first?"
She assented without speaking. Somehow the spell of silence seemed to hold her also.
Tawny Hudson was on guard as usual in the outer room. He looked up with resentful eyes as they entered, but he said nothing. The door into his master's room stood half open. Nap paused at it a moment to listen. He turned to Anne, and she fancied just for a second that there was a shade of anxiety on his face. But it was gone instantly, if indeed it had been there.
"Follow me in a minute," he said, "if I don't come back."
And with that he glided through the narrow space and passed from sight.
A minute later, absolute silence reigning, Anne softly pushed back the door and entered.