It was Burke who stood with his back against the closed door, looking at her, and his face had upon it in those first waking moments of bewilderment a look that appalled her.  For it was to her as the face of a murderer.

CHAPTER XII

THE COST

He did not speak in answer to her exclamation, merely stood there looking at her, almost as if he had never seen her before.  His eyes were keen with a sort of icy fierceness.  She thought she had never before realized the cruelty of his mouth.

It was she who spoke first.  The silence seemed so impossible.  “Burke!” she said.  “What—­is the matter?”

He came forward to her with an abruptness that was like the breaking of bonds.  He stopped in front of her, looking closely into her face.  “What are you doing here?” he said.

In spite of herself she shrank, so terrible was his look.  But she was swift to master her weakness.  She stood up to her full height, facing him.  “I have come to find Guy,” she said.

He threw a glance around; it was like the sweep of a rapier.  “You are waiting for him—­here?”

Again for a moment she was disconcerted.  She felt the quick blood rise to her forehead.  “They told me he would come here,” she said.

He passed on, almost as if she had not spoken, but his eyes were mercilessly upon her, marking her confusion.  “What do you want with him?”

His words were like the snap of a steel rope.  They made her flinch by their very ruthlessness.  She had sprung from sleep with bewildered senses.  She was not-prepared to do battle in her own defence.

She hesitated, and immediately his hand closed upon her shoulder.  It seemed to her that she had never known what anger could be like before this moment.  All the force of the man seemed to be gathered together in one tremendous wave, menacing her.

“Tell me what you want with him!” he said.

She shuddered from head to foot as if she had been struck with a scourge.  “Burke!  What do you mean?” she cried out desperately.  “You—­you must be mad!”

“Answer me!” he said.

His hold was a grip.  The ice in his eyes had turned to flame.  Her heart leapt and quivered within her like a wild thing fighting to escape.

“I—­don’t know what you mean,” she panted.  “I have done nothing wrong.  I came after him to—­to try and bring him back.”

“Then why did you come secretly?” he said,

She shrank from the intolerable inquisition of his eyes.  “I wanted to see him—­alone,” she said.

“Why?” Again it was like the merciless cut of a scourge.  She caught her breath with a sharp sound that was almost a cry.

“Why?” he reiterated.  “Answer me!  Answer me!”

She did not answer him.  She could not.  And in the silence that followed, it seemed to her that something within her—­something that had been Vitally wounded—­struggled and died.