Again the thought of Keyork Arabian flashed across her mind.

Had there been any reality, she vaguely wondered, in that compact made with him?
What was she doing now?
But the crime was to be Beatrice's, not hers.

Her heart beat fast for a moment, and then she grew very calm again.
The clock in the church tower chimed the first quarter past one.

She was able to count the strokes and was glad to find that she had lost no time.

As soon as the long, singing echo of the bells had died away, she spoke, not loudly, but clearly and distinctly.
"Beatrice Varanger, go forward and mount the steps I have placed for you." The dark figure moved obediently, and Unorna heard the slight sound of Beatrice's foot upon the wood.