apartments could only be reached by crossing open terraces.

When Don John came to get her in the sentry-box, Dolores' momentary
doubt was gone, though not all her curiosity. She smiled as she came out
of her hiding-place and met his eyes--clear and true as her own. She
even hated herself for having thought that the lady could have come from
his apartment at all. The light was streaming from his open door as he
led her quickly towards it. There were three windows beyond it, and
there the terrace ended. She looked at the front as they were passing,
and counted again three windows between the open door and the corner
where the sentry-box stood.

"Who lives in the rooms beyond you?" she asked quickly.

"No one--the last is the one where you are to be." He seemed surprised.

They had reached the open door, and he stood aside to let her go in.

"And on this side?" she asked, speaking with a painful effort.

"My drawing-room and dining-room," he answered.

She paused and drew breath before she spoke again, and she pressed one
hand to her side under her cloak.

"Who was the lady who came from here when all the men were gone?" she
asked, very pale.

* * * * *