“Arctura,” said a deep, awful voice.
It was that of the earl. Arctura made no answer.
“Dead of fright!” muttered the voice. “All goes well. I will go down and see. She might have proved as obstinate as the boys’ mother!”
Again the steps began. They were coming down the stair. The door at the foot of it opened. The earl entered a step or two, then stopped. Through the darkness Donal seemed to know exactly where he stood. He knew also that he was fumbling for a match, and watched intently for the first spark. There came a sputter and a gleam, and the match failed. Ere he could try another, Donal made a swift blow at his arm. It knocked the box from his hand.
“Ha!” he cried, and there was terror in the cry, “she strikes at me through the dark!”
Donal kept very still. Arctura kept as still as he. The earl turned and went away.
“I will bring a candle!” he muttered.
“Now, my lady, we must make haste,” said Donal. “Do you mind being left while I fetch my tools?”
“No—but make haste,” she answered.
“I shall be back before him,” he returned.