The officer superintended all these details with the same calmness Milady had constantly seen in him, never pronouncing a word himself, and making himself obeyed by a gesture of his hand or a sound of his whistle.

It might have been said that between this man and his inferiors spoken language did not exist, or had become useless.

At length Milady could hold out no longer; she broke the silence.  “In the name of heaven, sir,” cried she, “what means all that is passing?  Put an end to my doubts; I have courage enough for any danger I can foresee, for every misfortune which I understand.  Where am I, and why am I here?  If I am free, why these bars and these doors?  If I am a prisoner, what crime have I committed?”

“You are here in the apartment destined for you, madame.  I received orders to go and take charge of you on the sea, and to conduct you to this castle.  This order I believe I have accomplished with all the exactness of a soldier, but also with the courtesy of a gentleman.  There terminates, at least to the present moment, the duty I had to fulfill toward you; the rest concerns another person.”

“And who is that other person?” asked Milady, warmly.  “Can you not tell me his name?”

At the moment a great jingling of spurs was heard on the stairs.  Some voices passed and faded away, and the sound of a single footstep approached the door.

“That person is here, madame,” said the officer, leaving the entrance open, and drawing himself up in an attitude of respect.

At the same time the door opened; a man appeared on the threshold.  He was without a hat, carried a sword, and flourished a handkerchief in his hand.

Milady thought she recognized this shadow in the gloom; she supported herself with one hand upon the arm of the chair, and advanced her head as if to meet a certainty.

The stranger advanced slowly, and as he advanced, after entering into the circle of light projected by the lamp, Milady involuntarily drew back.

Then when she had no longer any doubt, she cried, in a state of stupor, “What, my brother, is it you?”

“Yes, fair lady!” replied Lord de Winter, making a bow, half courteous, half ironical; “it is I, myself.”

“But this castle, then?”

“Is mine.”

“This chamber?”

“Is yours.”

“I am, then, your prisoner?”

“Nearly so.”

“But this is a frightful abuse of power!”

“No high-sounding words!  Let us sit down and chat quietly, as brother and sister ought to do.”

Then, turning toward the door, and seeing that the young officer was waiting for his last orders, he said.  “All is well, I thank you; now leave us alone, Mr. Felton.”

50 Chat between brother and sister