"Who is there?" A movement from within, a creak from the bed, a rustle of a garment, then silence. Listening there, ear to her door, I heard distinctly the steady breathing of some one also listening on the other side.
"Elsin!"
"Is it you, Carus?"
She opened the door wide and stood there, candle in one hand, rubbing her eyes with the other, lace night-cap and flowing, beribboned robe stirring in the draft of air from the dark hallway. But under the loosened neck-cloth I caught a gleam of a metal button, and instantly I was aware of a pretense somewhere, for beneath the flowing polonaise of chintz, or Levete, which is a kind of gown and petticoat tied on the left hip with a sash of lace, she was fully dressed, aye, and shod for the street.
Instinctively I glanced at the bed, made a quick step past her, and drew the damask curtain. The bed had not been slept in.
"What are you thinking of, Carus?" she said hotly, springing to the curtain. There was a sharp sound of cloth tearing; she stumbled, caught my arm, and straightened up, red as fire, for the hem of her Levete was laid open to the knee, and displayed a foot-mantle, under which a tiny golden spur flashed on a lacquered boot-heel.
"What does this mean?" I said sternly. "Whither do you ride at such an hour?"
She was speechless.
"Elsin! Elsin! If you had wit enough to hide Sir Peter's pistols, render them to me now. Delay may mean my ruin."
She stood at bay, eying me, uncertain but defiant.
"Where are they?" I urged impatiently.
"He shall not fight that man!" she muttered. "If I am the cause of this quarrel I shall end it, too. What if he were killed by Walter Butler?"
"The pistols are beneath your mattress!" I said suddenly. "I must have them."
Quick as thought she placed herself between me and the bed, blue eyes sparkling, arms wide.
"Will you go?" she whispered fiercely. "How dare you intrude here!"
Taken aback by the sudden fury that flashed out in my very face, I gave ground.
"You little wildcat," I said, amazed, "give me the pistols! I know how to act. Give them, I say! Do you think me a poltroon to allow Sir Peter to face this rascal's fire?"
She straightened with a sudden quiver.
"You! The pistols were for you!"
"For me and Walter Butler," I said coolly. "Give them, Elsin. What has been done this night has set me free of my vow. Can you not understand? I tell you he stands in my light, throwing the shadow of the gallows over me! May a man not win back to life but a chit of a maid must snatch his chance away? Give them, or I swing at dawn upon the common!"