The jailor, perfectly dumbfounded, would have asked her in surly tones, how she came there, and who let her in, but the presence of the figure filled him, in spite of himself, with such awe that he could not utter a word. Then glancing at the writing on the wall and then again at the figure of the maiden, who looked at him in a manner that made him feel he knew not how, as he afterwards declared, he observed her rise to her feet, retreat one pace, and pointing once more to the writing on the wall, gradually dissolved herself into a mist and disappeared from his sight.
The jailor's courage now fairly left him, his knees knocked together in a panic, and he dropped his bunch of keys on the ground. At length recovering from his first surprise, he gazed around him, and found himself alone with the prisoner, who was still in his swoon. The first thing that he did was to secure the door of the cell, then walking up to the prisoner, shook him roughly, and assailed him with questions.
"Beautiful vision!" cried Archer, now awaking from his swoon, "thou has saved my life by denouncing the true murderer. Were it not for thee I might—— But where art thou? Gone—Fled? Has it, then, been all a dream? Oh!" he groaned, as his eyes caught the jailor bending over him.
"Come, be of good cheer, young man," said the jailor, kindly. "It was no dream, or if it was, we have both been dreaming, and had the same dream. I, too, saw the lady. I'll swear to that in any court of justice. Well, I never believed in ghosts before, young man. I never did, upon my word, but after what I have just seen with these eyes——"
"What! you saw her, too?" interrupted Archer. "You? Then it was no dream, but a divine vision sent by Providence to preserve the innocent. Look, there is her writing on the wall."
"What means that name, young man?" asked the jailor, gravely.
"She traced it with her own finger. I asked her to reveal to me the name of the true murderer, and that was the name she traced upon the wall."
"You are not imposing upon me, young man?" inquired the jailor, suspiciously.
"Not I," answered Archer, frankly. "Did you not see her yourself?"
"True, true," quoth the jailor; "I remember that she pointed to the writing and then vanished. Well, upon my soul, I do not know what to think of the matter. I have been here thirty years come Michaelmas, but what I have seen to-day passes all the experience of Miles Gratelock. I'll inform the authorities of what has taken place at once, and I'll yet hope to see you out of this place; for to tell you the honest truth, lad, I don't think you capable of the murder, and never did; yet appearances," he added, "appearances, you know, must be taken into consideration, and they are often against us. However, we'll hope for the best."