So for a terrible minute I hugged myself into a motionless ball, hardly daring to breathe, and wishing I could silence the absurd hammering of my heart which sounded loud enough to betray me. And soon the secret door swung open, and there were two of us there in the great wardrobe. But the stranger had no light; and the darkness hid me. Then the wardrobe door was opened, and the stranger stepped out, shutting it softly behind him. I heard a faint cry which changed to, "Ah, it's you, Abou! You frightened me." A soft voice replied, "Pardon, my master; I did not know you were here." The first voice continued, "Yes, back once again. There's no other place for me." "It is a good place, my master," was the gentle reply. Something in the tone of the last speaker soothed and calmed me. His voice was placid and comforting. I thought I should like to see his face. But the other speaker was troubled, though his voice wasn't unkindly. Presently he uttered in a piteous sigh so unexpected and so sorrowful that it seemed to melt my very heart to tears, "Oh, Abou, Abou, why will he still pursue me? Why will he not have mercy?" "Have courage, my master," Abou replied in that suave and gracious voice of his which seemed to steal about me like a charm, though I had hardly heard a dozen words of his uttering. "Have courage, my master, he shall have mercy." "But will it never end? Will it never end?" again came that broken cry. "Courage, my master. It will end." For a while there were subdued movements in the room as though clothes were being unfolded and laid ready for putting on. I was tempted to feel for the secret door, and if it were open to creep away and out through the passage. But perhaps the door was closed; and Abou might open the wardrobe at any minute. The sound of clothes being unpacked made me tremble lest the wardrobe might be needed for use. Then, too, I was curious to learn more of the mystery into which I had stumbled. Here seemed even another case of a hunted man. I began to philosophize in my boyish way, wondering if life were nothing but fleeing and pursuing. My father's life was a constant flight. And then I remembered Dirk and his vow, and wondered whether that treacherous King's Man had paid the forfeit yet. And here was another victim under the shadow of fear. My thoughts came to a sudden stop with Abou's voice saying, "All is ready. Will my master come up to his room?" "No Abou, no; not for a while."