Something in the fierce, anxious whisper gave her confidence. The miracle had been wrought! He had composed this woman under the most trying circumstances that could have teen imagined. She slipped from the bed and threw a long, loose silken gown about her.
“Who are you?” she asked, touching his arm.
“I am a foreigner—an American—Grenfall Lorry! Hurry!” he implored.
She did not move for a moment, but he distinctly heard her catch her breath.
“Am I dreaming?” she murmured, faintly. Her fingers now clutched his arm tightly.
“I should say not! I don't like to order you around, your Highness, but—”
“Come—— come to the light!” she interrupted, excitedly. “Over here!”
Noiselessly she drew him across the room until the light fell across his face. It was not a bright light, but what she saw satisfied her. He could not see her face, for she stood outside the strip of dusky yellow.
“Two men lie beneath your window, and two are coming to this room. Where shall I go? Come, be quick, madam! Do you want to be carted off to Ganlook? Then don't stand there like a—like a—pardon me, I won't say it.”
“I trust you fully. Shall I alarm the guard?” she whispered, recovering her self-possession.