“Ulrica!” he cried hoarsely, “Ulrica!”
But now the candle cast a glow on the person carrying it; a woman, but too tall and stately for Lady Stair.
She came to the open doors and stopped; her light gray dress appeared luminous against the darkness, and a black hood was pushed back from her pale, set face.
She held the candle in a hand so trembling that the flame wavered and the wax dripped over her dress.
“Is it you, Lord Stair?” she said faintly. “Is it you?”
In an instant he knew her; in an instant it was all plain to him, as the key to the cipher she explained everything; his secret enemy, the one who had worked his ruin in the dark—he heard her words of three years ago as if she spoke them now.
“If you push me too far I may pull your fortunes about your feet.”
He moved into the center of the room.
“Delia,” he said, “Delia.”
She shrank back.