There was some low-voiced conference at the door; then Tybee came to me.

"'Tis Mr. Gilbert Stair," he said. "He has permission from the colonel
and insists that he must see you _solus_. I'll take your word and leave
you, if you like."

At first I hung reluctant, wanting little of the host who came so late
to see his guest. Then, as if a sudden flash of lightning had revealed
it, I realized, as I had not before, how I had set the feet of my dear
lady in a most hideous labyrinth of deception; how this lie that I had
told to bridge a momentary gap must leave her neither maid nor widow in
the morning.

"Yes, yes; for God's sake let him in, Mr. Tybee!" I burst out. "I am
fair crazed with weariness, and had forgot. 'Tis most important, I do
assure you."

The thing was done at once, and before I knew it I was alone with the
old man who, though he was my supplanter, was also Margery's father. He
entered cautiously, shielding his bedroom candle with his hand and
peering over it to make me out, as if his venturing in were not
unperilous. And I marked that when he put the candle down upon the
table, he edged away and felt behind him for the door as if to make sure
of his retreat in case of need.

"Sit down, Captain Ireton; sit down, I beg of you," he said, in his
thin, rasping treble. And when I had obeyed: "I think you must know what
I've come for, Captain Ireton?"

I said I could guess; and he began again, volubly now, as if to have it