Marion now led the way down stairs, and Philip followed her, treading lightly and wondering at what moment his strength and valor would be called upon. Marion opened the outer door, and when it closed behind them the strange blackness of the night pressed upon their eyes like a material substance. At the gate, however, appeared a small light, seemingly proceeding from a lantern, but it had very little power to disperse its rays. Nevertheless, Philip was able dimly to perceive a large white object outside the gate, which, by the aid of mother-wit, he contrived to identify as a horse. And the lantern in Marion’s hand presently revealed that the horse was attached to a wagon. She hung the lantern on the side of the wagon and loosed the horse’s rein.
“Get in after me,” she said, “and then I’ll tell you which way to drive.”
“Well?” said Philip, when he had taken his place.
“When we get to the highway keep to the right and cross the bridge. After that I’ll tell you more.”
“How did the horse and wagon come here?” Philip inquired.
“I got them just now from Jebson, the baker. He is an obliging man, and I knew he would let me have them without asking what I wanted them for.”
“Then ’twas you I heard go out awhile ago?”
“Yes. I’ve been feeling it coming all the afternoon. At last I could bear it no longer. If it had been anything else I would have done nothing. But to risk his life, merely for fear of being mistaken, was too much.”
“Whose life, Marion?”
She made no answer at first, but, when he turned toward her and sought to read her face in the darkness, she said reluctantly: