And then she saw behind the door a great steel clothes hook that she did not remember having seen before; and attached was a cord and a shapeless something that hung with terrible limpness – a woman! She opened her eyes wide, almost screamed, but put her hand before her mouth in time.

She had been dreaming, she realised, and she reached out for her handkerchief to wipe her damp face. There was no hook behind the door – nothing. She shivered and turned on her side, looked for the twentieth time at her watch. Twenty-five minutes past one.

Tap, tap!

That was distinct enough. It came from the room which Mary Wenner was to have occupied.

A silence, and then the unmistakable sound of gravel being thrown against a window. Perhaps it was Dick and he wanted to see her. She slipped out of bed, pulled a dressing-gown about her, opened the door of the dark room and went in. The windows were closed, but as she entered the room she was startled by a third handful of gravel that sounded with terrifying distinctness.

With trembling hands she pulled up the catch and pushed the casement open. A man was standing down below, and for a second she did not recognise him. And then everything went round; she had to grip the window ledge for support.

It was Harry Alford!

“Is that you, my dear?” His voice was little above a whisper, but remarkably clear.

She managed to answer: “Yes.”

She was so dumbfounded that she could not ask one of the thousand questions which crowded to her lips.

Harry! And alive!

“You are in terrible danger,” he said. “Will you come down? I can get a ladder.”

Before she could answer he had disappeared, and presently he came back, carrying a triangular-shaped ladder, and planted it against the side of the house. The top came within a foot of the window ledge.

“I can’t come, Harry; I’m not dressed. Besides, Miss Wenner is here.”

He raised his finger to his lips.

“Don’t wake her,” he said.

He had a little roll of something in his hand, and she noticed that he was bareheaded.

“Can’t you dress? I must see you.”

“Shall I call Dick?”

“No, no.” In his energy he almost raised his voice, and looked back over his shoulder. “That would spoil everything, and it would endanger his life. Dress quickly, my dear.”

What should she do? Her first instinct was to run to the door and tell the guard what she had seen; her second was to obey him. His earnestness and the terror in his voice made her yield to his suggestion.

Quickly she dressed by candlelight, hoping and praying that Mary Wenner would wake up. Once she knocked against the bed, but Miss Wenner slept peacefully, a seraphic smile on her good-looking face, and the only notice she took of the disturbance was to murmur “Dick!”