I gave her five minutes’ start, then followed her out, with a brain as hot as my heart was shivering. “They must discover their mistake very soon,” I thought, “and will be returning on their tracks.”
However, I reached home, running by byways, in safety; and there, quite unnerved now the terror was passed, threw myself into Patty’s arms and told her everything. She was the sweet, simple counsel and consoler she always was to grief, and distressed me only by some concern she could not help showing for the fate of Fanny.
“You try to make me out a devil,” I cried passionately. “They will let her alone, of course, when they find she isn’t who they want.”
We slept in one another’s arms that night, fearful of every sound in the street. But morning brought the sun and Gogo—though the latter inexcusably late to his appointment—and both were a heavenly joy to me.
I saw at once by his expression that he carried news; but he did not speak.
“Gogo!” I whispered.
He uttered a strange sound, like a wounded beast, and turned his face from me.
“Did you exchange head-dresses with her last night?” he muttered.
“What do you mean?”
My heart seemed to stop.