I had no very exact idea of the time,—­my watch had stopped.  But the afternoon light was deepening, and long lines of soft amber and crimson in the sky were beginning to spread a radiant path for the descent of the sun.  While I still remained at the window I suddenly heard the rise and swell of deep organ music, solemn and sonorous; it was as though the waves of the sea had set themselves to song.  Some instinct then told me there was someone in the room,—­and I turned round quickly to find my former guide in the white garments standing silently behind me, waiting.  I had intended to complain at once of the way in which I had been imprisoned as though I were a criminal—­but at sight of his grave, composed figure I lost all my hardihood and could say nothing.  I merely stood still, attendant on his pleasure.  His dark eyes, gleaming from under his white cowl, looked at me with a searching enquiry as though he expected me to speak, but as I continued to keep silence, he smiled.

“You are very patient!” he said, quietly—­“And that is well!  The Master awaits you.”

A tremor ran through me, and my heart began to beat violently.  I was to have my wilful desires granted, then!  I was actually to see and speak with the man to whom Rafel Santoris owed his prolonged youth and power, and under whose training he had passed through an ordeal which had taught him some of the deepest mysteries of life!  The result of my own wishes seemed now so terrifying to me that I could not have uttered a word had I tried, I followed my escort in absolute silence;—­once in my nervous agitation I slipped on the stone staircase and nearly fell,—­he at once caught me by the hand and supported me, and the kindness and gentle strength of his touch renewed my courage.  His wonderful eyes looked steadily into mine.

“Do not be afraid!” he said, in a low tone—­“There is really nothing to fear!”

We passed the domed hall and its sparkling fountain, and in two or three minutes came to a deep archway veiled by a portiere of some rich stuff woven in russet brown and gold,—­this curtain my guide threw back noiselessly, showing a closed door.  Here he came to a standstill and waited—­I waited with him, trying to be calm, though my mind was in a perfect tumult of expectation mingled with doubt and dread,—­that closed door seemed to me to conceal some marvellous secret with which my whole future life and destiny were likely to be involved.  Suddenly it opened,—­I saw a beautiful octagonal room, richly furnished, with the walls lined, so it appeared, from floor to ceiling with books,—­one or two great stands and vases of flowers made flashes of colour among the shadows, and a quick upward glance showed me that the ceiling was painted in fresco, then my guide signed to me to enter.

“The Master will be with you in a moment,”—­he said—­“Please sit down”—­here he gave me an encouraging smile—­“You are a little nervous—­try and compose yourself!  You need not be at all anxious or frightened!”