“I wish there was bolts to these doors. They've got other keys. Never mind; I know it all now,” she whispered, as she walked softly up to the end of the room farthest from the door. “I said I'd stand by you, my lady; don't you lose heart. They're coming here in about a hour.”
“For God's sake, what is it?” said Alice faintly, her eyes gazing wider and wider, and her very lips growing white.
“There's work before us, my lady, and there must be no fooling,” said the girl, a little sternly. “Mr. Levi, please, has told me a deal, and all they expect from me, the villains. Are you strong enough to take your part in it, Miss? If not, best be quiet; best for both.”
“Yes; quite strong, Phœbe. Are we to leave this?”
“I hope, Miss. We can but try.”
“There's light, Phœbe,” she said, glancing with a shiver from the window. “It's a bright night.”
“I wish 'twas darker; but mind you what I say. Longcluse is to be here in a hour. Your brother's coming, God help you! and that little limb o' Satan, that black-eyed, black-nailed, dirty little Jew, Levice! They're not in town, they're out together near this, where a man is to meet them with writings. There's a licence got, Christie Vargers saw Mr. Longcluse showing it to your brother, Sir Richard; and I daren't tell Vargers that I'm for you. He'd never do nothing to vex Mr. Levice, he daren't. There's a parson here, a rum 'un, you may be sure. I think I know something about him; Vargers does. He's in the room now, only one away from this, next the stair head, and Vargers is put to keep the door in the same room. All the doors along, from one room to t'other, is open, from this to the stairs, except the last, which Vargers has the key of it; and all the doors opening from the rooms to the gallery is locked, so you can't get out o' this 'ere without passing through the one where parson is, and Mr. Vargers, please.”
“I'll speak to the clergyman,” whispered Alice, extending her hands towards the far door; “God be thanked, there's one good man here, and he'll save me!”
“La, bless you child! why that parson had his two pen'orth long ago, and spends half his nights in the lock-up.”
“I don't understand, Phœbe.”