She was still kneeling, her hands at her breast, and her eyes, wide and dark, fixed upon the blackness without the open door. I went up to her and took her by the hand.
"I am a gentleman, madam," I said. "You need have no fear of me. I pray you to rise."
She stood up at that, and her breath came hurriedly through her parted lips, but she did not speak.
"It grows late, and you must be weary," I continued. "Your room is yonder. I trust that you will sleep well. Good-night."
I bowed low, and she curtsied to me. "Good-night," she said.
On her way to the door, she brushed against the rack wherein hung my weapons. Among them was a small dagger. Her quick eye caught its gleam, and I saw her press closer to the wall, and with her right hand strive stealthily to detach the blade from its fastening. She did not understand the trick. Her hand dropped to her side, and she was passing on, when I crossed the room, loosened the dagger, and offered it to her, with a smile and a bow. She flushed scarlet and bit her lips, but she took it.
"There are bars to the door within," I said. "Again, good-night."
"Good-night," she answered, and, entering the room, she shut the door. A moment more, and I heard the heavy bars drop into place.