She ran towards it.

It looked like a man as she drew nearer.

The man stopped.
"The password," he said, in tones cautiously lowered.
"Fidelity," she answered in a whisper.
It was too dark for a recognition of his features; but Iris knew him by his tall stature--knew him by the accent in which he had asked for the password.

Erroneously judging of her, on his side, as a man, he drew back again.

Sir Giles Mountjoy was above the middle height; the stranger in a cloak, who had whispered to him, was below it.