She wrote feverishly, a thousand thoughts arising for every one that she was able to transfer to the paper. When she had finished the hope-inspired scrawl she arose and, with a gracious smile, handed to the waiting captain the pardon for those who had secreted the fugitive.
“I grant forgiveness to them gladly,” she said.
“I thank you,” said Lorry, bowing low.
“Mr. Lorry, I regret the difficulty in which you find yourself. It was on my account, too, I am told. Be you guilty or innocent, you are my friend, my protector. May God be good to you.” She gave him her hand calmly, steadily, as if she were bestowing favor upon a subject. He kissed the hand gravely.
“Forgive me for trespassing on your good nature tonight, your Highness.
“The five thousand gavvos shall be yours tomorrow, Captain Quinnox,” she said, graciously. “You have done your duty well.” The faithful captain bowed deep and low and a weight was lifted from his conscience.
“Gentlemen, the door,” he said, and without a word the trio left the room. She closed the door and stood like a statue until their footsteps died away in the distance. As one in a daze she sat at the desk till the dawn, Grenfall Lorry's revolver lying before her.
Through the halls, down the stairs and into the clammy dungeon strode the silent trio.
But before Lorry stepped inside the cell Gabriel asked a question that had been troubling him for many minutes.
“I am afraid I have—ah—misjudged her,” muttered Gabriel, now convinced that he had committed himself irretrievably.