But Waller was on his guard, and as the end glided round the upright of the window-frame and came rustling down through the ivy, it just touched the lad’s protecting arm, and that was all.
“I’ll hide this here somewhere, where I can find it again,” whispered Bunny. “You won’t want to go in again that way when there’s the doors.”
As the last ring was formed of the rope and caught up by the rough gipsy-looking fellow, they stood listening to the sound of voices, which came loudly from within, two of those present recognising the husky, throaty speech of the village constable, and Waller set it down to questioning as to where he was.
Directly after, at a word from Bunny, they stepped off the bed on to the soft turf, just as there was the rattle of a lock, the big door was thrown open, and a bright bar of light flashed across the lawn, while clump, clump, came the heavy footsteps of a couple of the soldiers marching through the porch.
To go on seemed to Waller like courting danger; to stand still suggested the certainty of being seen; and giving Godfrey a thrust, he pressed onward, risking all, and following Bunny, who was hurrying in the direction of the forest.
Over and over again Waller felt certain that they must be seen by the two men, whom he could make out as he glanced back, standing against the light that came through the porch, and he could hardly believe in their good fortune, as neither shout nor shot was sent in their direction, while a few minutes later they were threading their way amongst the trees.