Then she turned to follow him in; but as she moved, she felt her wrist grasped from behind, softly but with the irresistibleness of a handcuff of iron.
Looking round, she caught sight of a sleeve of russet cloth bound about with a green ribbon with gold and emerald tags, and turning she found herself face to face with Ralph Ingle.
Instinctively she struggled to free herself, then perceiving that her strength was no match for his, she stood still.
"I am thy slave still," he whispered. "Give me one kind word, one glance to kindle hope in my heart, and my sword is thine for offence and defence. Nay, 'tis in my power to save thy kinsman, whom I have just seen borne in at thy door. I saw him fall and followed his bearers, sure that they would bring him here."
"'Tis a fair return thou art making for his hospitality."
"I wonder not at thy surprise."
"Surprise! I feel none. 'Tis what I should look for in one of thy name and race. If I was once deceived in thee, I know thee now for what thou art."
"What am I?"
"A traitor."