"Is it Herman Bengel?" came the question.
"Yes. I will come to you, for I want your help."
Herman was still speaking, when the man crossed to the tree with swift strides.
"Speak, so that I may know where you are," Heinrich whispered. "Nay, come here, where the moonlight is, and I may see your face; or how shall I know that you are not one of those murderous hounds of that house yonder, trying to get your sharp fangs into me?"
Herman stepped out into the moonlight, and the other, who watched him, caught at Herman's hand and kissed it.
"God has sent you!" he exclaimed, below his breath, lest anyone might hear beyond themselves. "Come with me, and I will show you what will do your heart good! Ay, and it will gladden your eyes."
Herman wondered what his meaning was, but he told him why he was here in the garden, and how anxious he was to get away because of that struggle in the cell.
"You really did all that?" exclaimed Heinrich, and, precious though the moments were, he danced right out in the moonlight for the joy of the thing. In the extremity of his jubilation his eyes were full of tears, and Herman looked on in wonder, and part, too, in dread, lest the poor, simple fellow had gone from imbecility to madness.
"Give me the key," Heinrich implored. "The day may come when I may use it and set some poor prisoner free." He put forth his hand for it, and Herman, having no need for it, gave it to him.
"But she is there, I feel assured, Heinrich, in that horrible place," said Herman anxiously. "And now I am helpless. I dare not go back for her."