d slowly. But it was not over yet. Again the bolt slipped in
the outer hall, and again she heard the heavy steps. They came straight
towards the door. He had perhaps changed his mind, or he had something
more to say; she held her breath, but he did not come in. As if to make
doubly sure, he bolted her into the little room, crossed the hall a last
time, and bolted it for the night, perfectly certain that Dolores was
safely shut off from the outer world.

For some minutes she sat quite still, profoundly disturbed, and utterly
unable to find any way out of her difficulty, which was, indeed, that
she was in a very secure prison.

Then again there was a sound at the door, but very soft this time, not
half as loud in her ears as the beating of her own heart. There was
something ghostly in it, for she had heard no footsteps. The bolt moved
very slowly and gently--she had to strain her ears to hear it move. The
sound ceased, and another followed it--that of the door being cautiously
opened. A moment later Inez was in the room--turning her head anxiously
from side to side to hear Dolores' breathing, and so to find out where
she was. Then as Dolores rose, the blind girl put her finger to her
lips, and felt for her sister's hand.

"He has the letter," she whispered quickly. "I found him by accident,
very quickly. I am to say to you that after he has been some time in the
great hall, he will slip away and come here. You see our father will be
on duty and cannot come up."

Dolores' hand trembled violently.

"He swore to me that he would kill Don John if he came here," she
whispered. "He will do it, if it costs his own life! You must find him
again--go quickly, dear, for the love of Heaven!" Her anxiety increased.
"Go--go, darling--do not lose a moment--he may come sooner--save him,
save him!"

"I cannot go," answered Inez, in terror, as she understood the
situation. "I had hidden myself, and I am locked in with you. He called
me, but I kept quiet, for I knew he would not let me stay." She buried
her face in her hands and sobbed aloud in an agony of fear.

Dolores' lips were white, and she steadied herself against a chair.

* * * * *

CHAPTER III

Dolores stood leaning against the back of the chair, neither hearing nor
seeing her sister, conscious only that Don John was in danger and that
she could not warn him to be on his guard. She had not believed herself
when she had told her fa