"No, ma'am. I was to say that he was some one that must be seen. He'd give no name."
For a further instant Enid was silent, conscious of nothing but her own unsteady pulses; then suddenly she turned almost angrily upon the servant.
"Show him in!" she cried. "Show him in at once! Don't keep him standing at the door."
In some confusion Norris turned and walked across the room. At the doorway she paused and looked back.
"Will you have the lights on, ma'am?"
"No. No; the fire makes light enough. I like twilight and a fire. Don't stand waiting!"
The woman departed; and for a space that seemed to her interminable, Enid stood beside the fireplace, motionless with hope, dread, and an almost uncontrollable nervousness. At last, as in a dream, she saw the door open and the tall, characteristic figure of the Prophet move into the room.
She was vaguely aware that he halted for a moment, as if undecided as to his action, while Norris retired, softly closing the door. Then, with a sudden leap of the heart, she was conscious that he was coming towards her across the shadowed room.
He moved straight forward until he was close beside her; and, with one of his decisive, imperious gestures, he put out both hands and caught hers.
"It was a case of Mohammed and the mountain!" he said, in his grave voice. "You wouldn't come to me; I had to come to you."