They went on together. He led her into a lift, and they passed out of reach of the staring crowd.
A familiar figure was awaiting them above, and greeted Chris deferentially as she stepped into the corridor.
"Why, Holmes!" she said, and held out her hand to him.
He took it with reverence. For the first time in her memory she detected a hint of emotion on his impassive face.
"He—hasn't gone, Holmes?" she whispered breathlessly.
"No, madam. He is waiting for you," Holmes made answer, very gently.
Waiting for her! She smiled piteously in her relief. Bertrand de
Montville would be her perfect knight to the last.
As they went on down the long corridor she missed the grasp of her husband's fingers, and stopped like a child to slip her hand back into his.
He looked down at her gravely, saying nothing. And so they came at last to the door of Bertrand's room.
Two soldiers were on guard here also. The door was closed.