“After I have gone twenty paces down the hall, do you rap on the door. She may not admit you at first, but do not give up. If she bid you enter or asks your mission, enter quickly and close the door. It is unlocked. She may swoon, or scream, and you must prevent either if possible. In an hour I shall return and you must go back to the passage.”
“Never! I have come to save her and her country, and I intend to do so by surrendering myself this very night.”
“I had hoped to dissuade you. But, sir, you cannot do so to-night. You forget that this visit compromises her.”
“True. I had forgotten. Well, I'll go back with you, but to-morrow I am your prisoner, not your friend.”
“Be careful,” cautioned the captain as he moved away. Lorry feverishly tapped his knuckles on the panel of the door and waited with motionless heart for the response. It came not and he rapped harder, a strange fear darting into his mind.
“Well?” came from within, the voice he adored.
Impetuous haste marked his next movement. He dashed open the door, sprang inside and closed it quickly. She was sitting before her escritoire, writing, and looked up, surprised and annoyed.
“I was not to be disturbed—Oh, God!”
She staggered to her feet and was in his arms before the breath of her exclamation had died away. Had he not supported her she would have dropped to the floor. Her hands, her face were like ice, her breast was pulseless and there was the wildest terror in her eyes.
“My darling—my queen!” he cried, passionately. “At last I am with you! Don't look at me like that! It is really I—I could not stay away—I could not permit this sacrifice of yours. Speak to me Do not stare like that!”