She sighed and held out her hand. As he stooped to salute it the door was dashed open and a man booted and spurred flung into the room. As he stood for a moment amazed at what he saw, Brilliana, turning, recognized Sir Rufus Quaryll. She disengaged her hand from Evander’s and moved a little towards him. Evander instinctively felt for his sword. Sir Rufus’s face was a great blaze of red.
“In the devil’s name, what does this mean?” he shouted.
Brilliana drew herself up.
“You forget yourself,” she said, haughtily. Rufus barked at her with rage.
“You have forgotten yourself; in the arms of a doomed traitor.”
“Civil words, sir!” Evander cried, moving on him. Brilliana motioned him to hold back.
“This gentleman is no traitor.”
An open letter lay at Rufus’s feet. He pounced on it and read. He was pale now, the white heat of anger.
“Gentleman! Oh, I know much, guess all. Randolph is dead there yonder, and this rogue, who should be dead and ditched here, lives. Faugh! But he dies now.”
On the word he had drawn his sword and advanced upon Evander, whose own sword was no less swiftly out. Brilliana came between the two men.