“What makes you think that, sir?” said Brown suspiciously.
Alfred didn't know what to say: he could not tell him why he felt sure she had a key.
“Just go quietly and ask her for it” said he: “don't tell her I sent you, now.”
Brown obeyed, and returned in half-an-hour with the key of the vacant bedroom, where the hobbles and chains were hidden on the arrival of the justices.
She tells me this is the only key she has of any room in this corridor. “But dear heart,” said Brown, “how quicksighted the women are. She said, says she, 'If it is to bring sorrowful true lovers together again, Giles, or the like of that I'll try and get the key you want off Mrs. Archbold's bunch, though I get the sack for it,' says she. 'I know she heaves them in the parlour at night' says Hannah. She is a trump, you must allow.”
Alfred coloured up. He suspected he had been unjust.
“She is a good, kind, single-hearted girl,” said he; “and neither of you shall find me ungrateful.”
It was evident by the alacrity Brown now showed, that he had got his orders from Hannah.
It was agreed that Alfred should be down at night in his clothes, ready to seize the right moment; that Hannah should get the key, and watch the coast clear, and let him out into the corridor; and Brown get him down by a back stairs, and out on the lawn, There he would find a ladder close by the wall, and his own arms and legs must do the rest.
And now Alfred was a changed creature: his eye sparkled; he walked on air, and already sniffed the air of liberty.