she
meditated she heard his step in the hallway and his knock at her door;
then it opened, and Quinton Edge stood before her.

He did not appear to notice Nanna's absence, but crossed over to the
window where Esmay stood. "Come," he said, and Esmay obeyed, being yet
faint with terror lest his hands should touch her. And this he must have
guessed, for he drew aside and passed out first, motioning her to
follow. The door leading to his apartments stood open. Esmay hesitated.

"Yes," said Quinton Edge, and the girl turned and searched his face. She
did not understand what she saw there, yet it contented her, and she
crossed the threshold. Quinton Edge followed, reappearing almost
immediately and carefully locking the door behind him. He descended the
stairs and passed out to the eastern portico, where his horse should
have been in waiting. It was not there, and Quinton Edge grew angry.
"Kurt!" he called, once and twice and thrice. Then at last the
delinquent appeared. The sullenness of sleep was still upon him, and
when his master would have reproved him for his tardiness he answered
back insolently.

"Enough!" said Quinton Edge, and struck him across the mouth with his
riding-whip. Then vaulting into the saddle, he spurred through the
gateway, riding hard for the northwest.

Old Kurt gazed after his master. "Thirty lashes at Middenmass," he
muttered, "and now this--this----"

* * * * *

Three hours later a boyish figure scaled the wall and dropped into the
sunken way. Fangs, who was sunning herself on the terrace, looked up
with white teeth bared, then rose, wagging her tail in friendly
greeting. But Nanna, with a hasty word to the dog, entered the house and
ran up to Esmay's room. Great news indeed! But where was the child?
Nanna stood stock-still, gazing stupidly around the empty room. "Esmay,"
she murmured, in a half-whisper, and passed out into the corridor. She
went straight to the door leading to Quinton Edge's apartments. A tiny
hair-pin of tortoise-shell lay on the floor. Nanna picked it up with a
sob and regarded it fixedly. She knocked twice upon the door, but there
was no response. She tried her strength against it, and shook her head.
Nothing could be done here. She went down-stairs, and looked to see if
the key of the wicket gate was hanging in its accustomed place behind
the master's leather chair. It was there; she took it and let herself
into the street. There was onl