There was no one in the great circular ground-room of the tower, nor on the grand stairs where a man might ride up and down on horseback; but reaching the top, she was met by the housekeeper.
“Take my arm,” the woman said. “You must be very tired. I saw you from the window,” and she gave no intimation of surprise nor curiosity.
“I am tired and hungry and sleepy,” Iona said smilingly, availing herself of the offered support. “I find that I have not had exercise enough, and am too quickly fatigued. That is so easy with what I have to do. But I have come out here to work. If you will bring me a cup of chocolate, I will then try to sleep. I reached the Pines very late last night.”
She went to the chamber that was called hers, drank the chocolate that was brought her, and, overcome by fatigue, fell asleep.
“Prince Dylar has sent you the keys,” the housekeeper said to her when she woke. “He said that you forgot them. The messenger is waiting to know if there is any word to take back.”
“None except to thank the prince for taking so much trouble,” Iona said.
If she were more irritated or soothed by Dylar’s evident anxiety it would not have been easy to say. The sending of the keys, too, besides giving an opportunity to learn if she were well, was a reminder of his confidence in her and of her importance to San Salvador. They were the keys of his private apartment, the treasure-vault, and of the door leading to the ravine where a stream of water still brought an occasional grain of gold.
She opened the case with a little key of her own, and looked eagerly to see if there were any written word, snatching out the slip of paper that she found.
She read: “I think that the late rains may have washed out a few grains of gold. I did not go when I was last at the castle. Will you look?
Dylar.”