The wind went down somewhat at sunset and Sylvia realized with relief that the worst was over. She sat listening for the return of Burke and Guy while her companion chatted cheerfully of a thousand things which might have interested her at any other time but to which now she gave but fitful attention.
He was in the midst of telling her about the draw for the great diamond at Brennerstadt and how the tickets had been reduced from monkeys to ponies because the monkeys were too shy, when there came the sound for which she waited—a hand upon the window-catch and the swirl of sand blown in by the draught as it opened.
She was up in a moment, guarding the candle and looking out over it with eager, half-dazzled eyes. For an instant her look met Burke's as he stood in the aperture, then swiftly travelled to the man with him. Guy, with a ghastly face that tried to smile, was hanging upon him for support.
Burke shut the window with decision and stood staring at Sylvia's companion.
Kelly at once proceeded with volubility to explain his presence. "Ah, yes, it's meself in the flesh, Burke, and very pleased to see ye. I've taken a holiday to come and do ye a good turn. And Mrs. Ranger has been entertaining me like a prince in your absence. So you've got young Guy with you! What's the matter with the boy?"
"I'm all right," said Guy, and quitted his hold upon Burke as if to demonstrate the fact.
But Burke took him by the arm and led him to a chair. "You sit down!" he commanded briefly. "Hullo, Donovan! Glad to see you! Have you had a drink?"
"Sure, I've had all that mortal man could desire and more to it," declared Kelly.
"Good," said Burke, and turned to Sylvia. "Get out the brandy, will you?"
She hastened to do his bidding. There was a blueness about Guy's lips that frightened her, and she saw that his hands were clenched.