“No, if it does not lighten.”
“But they will run against the bottom of the ladder.”
“Fortunately it is too short by six feet.”
“Here they are! My God!”
“Silence!”
Both remained suspended, motionless and breathless, within twenty paces of the ground, while the patrol passed beneath them laughing and talking. This was a terrible moment for the fugitives.
The patrol passed. The noise of their retreating footsteps and the murmur of their voices soon died away.
“Now,” said Felton, “we are safe.”
Milady breathed a deep sigh and fainted.
Felton continued to descend. Near the bottom of the ladder, when he found no more support for his feet, he clung with his hands; at length, arrived at the last step, he let himself hang by the strength of his wrists, and touched the ground. He stooped down, picked up the bag of money, and placed it between his teeth. Then he took Milady in his arms, and set off briskly in the direction opposite to that which the patrol had taken. He soon left the pathway of the patrol, descended across the rocks, and when arrived on the edge of the sea, whistled.