I took it that she was attracted by the fire, which was by now well ablaze, and was throwing up jets of flame as the dry logs crackled.

The leaping flames threw fitful light across the room, and every gleam threw the white-clad figure into prominence, showing the gleam of the black eyes, and fixing the stars that lay in them.
Without a word I threw open the window, and, taking the white hand extended to me, drew into the room the Lady of the Shroud.
As she entered and felt the warmth of the blazing fire, a glad look spread over her face.

She made a movement as if to run to it.

But she drew back an instant after, looking round with instinctive caution.

She closed the window and bolted it, touched the lever which spread the grille across the opening, and pulled close the curtain behind it.