she evidently wished to escape observation. On the other hand, Don John
had quietly denied that any woman had been there, which meant at all
events that he had not seen any one. It could mean nothing else.

Dolores was neither foolishly jealous nor at all suspicious by nature,
and the man was her ideal of truthfulness and honour. She stood looking
at him, resting one hand on the table, while he came slowly towards her,
moving almost unconsciously in the direction of her exquisite beauty, as
a plant lifts itself to the sun at morning. He was near to her, and he
stretched out his arms as if to draw her to him. She smiled then, for in
his eyes she forgot her trouble for a moment, and she would have kissed
him. But suddenly his face grew grave, and he set his teeth, and instead
of taking her into his arms, he took one of her hands and raised it to
his lips, as if it had been the hand of his brother's wife, the young
Queen.

"Why?" she asked in surprise, and with a little start.

"You are here under my protection," he answered. "Let me have my own
way."

"Yes, I understand. How good you are to me!" She paused, and then went
on, seating herself upon one of the chairs by the table as she spoke.
"You must leave me now," she said. "You must lock me in and keep the
key. Then I shall know that I am safe; and in the meantime you must
decide how I am to escape--it will not be easy." She stopped again. "I
wonder who that woman was!" she exclaimed at last.

"There was no woman here," replied Don John, as quietly and assuredly as
before.