she closed it, and the amiable latch fell softly down again into its
place. Swift as a flash the girlish figure flitted up the winding narrow
stairs, and gasping but triumphant Betty seated herself on the lowest
step of the trap-ladder to await the coming of Geoffrey Yorke.

In the bedroom below, Miss Moppet, whose soul was thrilling with mingled
delight and terror at being an actor in a "real story," waited as she
was told until she heard the deep voice of the clock, sounding rather
more awful than usual, say "one, two, three!" and then tiptoeing over
the bare floor she opened with small trembling fingers the tiny aperture
and whispered, "Are you there?" starting back half frightened as the
instant answer came, close beside her:

"Yes, is it time?"

"Betty is in the garret by now," she faltered. "Oh, sir, be careful and
fare you well!"

For answer Geoffrey Yorke bent down, and taking the small cold fingers
extended to him, pressed a kiss on them, and with a soft "farewell"
began his passage up the chimney.

It was no such very difficult task he found, to his satisfaction, for
Betty was right, and by feeling carefully with his hands he perceived
the friendly pegs which Reuben had inserted, and of which Oliver had no
knowledge, else he would not have trusted so agile and strong a prisoner
within their reach. Geoffrey's broad shoulders were the only sufferers,
but the rough homespun which covered them was a better protection than
his uniform would have been, and he again blessed the good fortune which
had thrown the disguise in his way as he left Fairfield four days