After tea Brown brought in some newspapers, and made Alfred a signal, previously agreed on, that the ladder was under the east wall. He went to bed early, put on his tweed shooting-jacket and trousers, and lay listening to the clock with beating heart.
At first, feet passed to and fro from time to time. These became less frequent as the night wore on.
Presently a light foot passed, stopped at the door, and made a sharp scratch on it with some metal instrument.
It was the key. The time was not ripe to use it, but good Hannah had taken this way to let him know she had got it.
This little scratch outside his door, oh it made his heart leap and thrill. One great difficulty was overcome. He waited, and waited, but with glowing, hopeful heart; and at last a foot came swiftly, the key turned, and Hannah opened the door. She had a bull's-eye lantern.
“Take your shoes in your hand,” she whispered, “and follow me.”
He followed her. She led him in and out, to the door of the public room belonging to the second-class patients. Then she drew her whistle, and breathed very softly. Brown answered as softly from the other end. He was waiting at the opposite door.
“All right,” said she; “the dangerous part is over.” She put a key into the door, and said very softly, “Good-bye.”
“God bless you, Hannah,” said Alfred, with deep emotion. “God in heaven bless you for this!”
“He will, He does,” said the single-hearted girl, and put her other hand to her breast with a great gulp. She opened the door slowly. “Good-bye, dear. I shall never see you again.”