For in the midst of all this there occurred a new interruption. This was the sound of a key turning in the door. The door opened immediately behind Mrs. Russell, and a soft voice, said in familiar tones and in a husky whisper:
"Whis-s-s-s-sht, darlin'—are ye awake, thin! Sure I hope the gyerruls are aslape."
CHAPTER XXXI. — IN WHICH THE WHOLE PARTY FIND THEMSELVES IS A HAUNTED CASTLE.
At the opening of the door and the sound of the voice Ashby started back and retreated. He was very much puzzled at the Irish brogue, and could only think that a stray Paddy might be among the Carlists. However, there was no time to wait, so he sought to regain the fireplace. But as he did so a figure came in his way, arms were flung about him, and a low, faint whisper came close to his ear:
"Oh, Assebi! I am Dolores; that other is Mrs. Russell. Fly, or you are lost!"
Here was a new shock for Ashby, but he did not lose his presence of mind. The new-comer was still at the door. He was not followed. At this he noted as he stood for a moment or so holding Dolores in his arms.
As for Mrs. Russell, nothing could exceed her amazement and terror when "His Majesty" came in behind her at the very moment when she supposed herself to be in "His Majesty's" arms. It was unintelligible—nay, even frightful.
"Weren't you—your Majesty—here—just now?" she stammered.