When she heard the door behind her creak on its hinges she sprang back from her post and softly drew the bolt. Only then had she the courage to look round.
Her first emotion as she beheld him standing at the door was one of intense chagrin that at this long-looked-for tryst she should appear before him as black as a crow. And this wound to her vanity put even the threat of death out of her head.
He wore a long riding-cloak, which completely hid his arms, and he was covered from head to foot with snow.
"Is it still snowing?" she asked, and wiped his moustache, from which icicles hung, with her black-bordered pocket-handkerchief. "My poor darling, how wet you are!"
He did not stir, or even take the fur cap from his head.
"You stand there like a post," she said. "Why don't you take off your things?"
And as he continued motionless, she unbuttoned his collar for him, and the heavy cloak slipped off his shoulders on to the floor. She fancied she heard something hard in its folds strike against the panelling of the wall.
"What was that?" she inquired, terrified.
"Nothing," he growled, and blew through his teeth in an attempt to laugh.
A cold shudder ran through her. "What a good thing Ulrich is there," she thought Had she been alone with Leo in the house, she would have been horribly frightened.