I went to the door, unbarred it, and looked out into the night, for the air within the room stifled me. It was not much better outside. The clouds had gathered again, and were now hanging thick and low. From the distance came a rumble of thunder, and the whole night was dull, heavy, and breathless. Hot anger possessed me: anger against Rolfe for suggesting this thing to me; anger against myself for that unlucky throw; anger, most of all, against the woman who had so cozened me. In the servants' huts, a hundred yards away, lights were still burning, against rule, for the hour was late. Glad that there was something I could rail out against, I strode down upon the men, and caught them assembled in Diccon's cabin, dicing for to-morrow's rum. When I had struck out the light with my rapier, and had rated the rogues to their several quarters, I went back through the gathering storm to the brightly-lit, flower-decked room, and to Mistress Percy. She was still kneeling, her hands at her breast, and her eyes, wide and dark, fixed upon the blackness without the open door. I went up to her and took her by the hand. “I am a gentleman, madam,” I said. “You need have no fear of me. I pray you to rise.” She stood up at that, and her breath came hurriedly through her parted lips, but she did not speak. “It grows late, and you must be weary,” I continued. “Your room is yonder. I trust that you will sleep well. Good-night.” I bowed low, and she curtsied to me. “Good-night,” she said. On her way to the door, she brushed against the rack wherein hung my weapons. Among them was a small dagger. Her quick eye caught its gleam, and I saw her press closer to the wall, and with her right hand strive stealthily to detach the blade from its fastening. She did not understand the trick. Her hand dropped to her side, and she was passing on, when I crossed the room, loosened the dagger, and offered it to her, with a smile and a bow. She flushed scarlet and bit her lips, but she took it. “There are bars to the door within,” I said. “Again, good-night.” “Good-night,” she answered, and, entering the room, she shut the door. A moment more, and I heard the heavy bars drop into place. CHAPTER V IN WHICH A WOMAN HAS HER WAY TEN days later, Rolfe, going down river in his barge, touched at my wharf, and finding me there walked with me toward the house. “I have not seen you since you laughed my advice to scorn--and took it,” he said. “Where's the farthingale, Benedick the married man?” “In the house.” “Oh, ay!” he commented. “It's near to supper time. I trust she's a good cook?” “She does not cook,” I said dryly. “I have hired old Goody Cotton to do that.” He eyed me closely. “By all the gods! a new doublet! She is skillful with her needle, then?” “She may be,” I answered. “Having never seen her with one, I am no judge. The doublet was made by the tailor at Flowerdieu Hundred.”