Then she heard the door close and looking round across the pale room, saw her husband.
Instantly she put the bird back in its cage, shut the door on it, and rose.
“Ulrica,” said the Master of Stair, “I have something to ask of you.”
He came across the room, and at sight of his face the color left her own; she slipped back onto the gold sofa and clasped her hands tightly.
“What do you know of my affairs?” demanded Sir John. “I tell you nothing, but do you spy on me?”
He clenched his hand over the gilding behind her, and she shrank together.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Why do you speak so to me?”
“Because I desire an answer,” he said breathing hard.
“I will give you none,” she replied in a trembling indignation. “This is my lord’s work—he has set you on me.”
“You had better tell me before I discover for myself,” said her husband, his voice unsteady with suppressed passion. “Did you see that girl who came asking for me this afternoon?”