“The lady Beatrice Varanger—I must see her instantly!” cried the little man in terrible excitement.
“She is gone out,” the portress replied.
“Gone out? Where? Alone?”
“With a lady who was here last night—a lady with unlike eyes—”
“Where? Where? Where are they gone?” asked Keyork hardly able to find breath.
“The lady bade the coachman drive her home—but where she lives—”
“Home? To Unorna’s home? It is not true! I see it in your eyes. Witch! Hag! Let me in! Let me in, I say! May vampires get your body and the Three Black Angels cast lots upon your soul!”
In the storm of curses that followed, the convent door was violently shut in his face. Within, the portress stood shaking with fear, crossing herself again and again, and verily believing that the devil himself had tried to force an entrance into the sacred place.
In fearful anger Keyork drew back. He hesitated one moment and then regained his carriage.
“To Unorna’s house!” he shouted, as he shut the door with a crash.