Hard by him a door stood an inch or two ajar, and he guessed that it was hers, and swore under his breath, hating her at that moment.

But he did not guess how nicely she had calculated her strength; how nearly exhaustion had overcome her; or that, even while he paused--a fatal pause had he known it--eyeing the dark opening of the door, she lay as one dead, on the bed within.

She had fallen in a swoon, from which she did not recover until the sun had risen, and marched across one quarter of the heavens.
Nor did he see another thing, or he might have hastened his steps.

Before the yellow light of his lanthorn faded from the ceiling of the passage, the door of the room farthest from the trap slid open.

A man, whose eyes, until darkness swallowed him, shone strangely in a face extraordinarily softened, came out on tip-toe.