There was a short deep pause.
Then the hard tension of silence was broken by a faint cry.

It came from behind, from the doorway; it was the voice of a girl.
In the blank stupor of the moment, every eye being on the two that stood in the midst, no one had observed until then that another had entered the patio.

It was Naomi.

How long she had been there no one knew, and how she had come unnoticed through the corridors out of the streets scarce any one--even when time sufficed to arrange the scattered thoughts of the Makhazni, the guard at the gate--could clearly tell.

She stood under the arch, with one hand at her breast, which heaved visibly with emotion, and the other hand stretched out to touch the open iron-clamped door, as if for help and guidance.