As she sat motionless, her whole forces divided between watching and listening, there was a movement at her elbow. Simone was there with her hat and gloves. Behind her stood Mistress Keziah, her face grey in the dawn.
The clocks in the town chimed half-past three. Marion started. Half an hour Roger had been filing those bars.
'Had you not better go down to the gate and be ready?' said the old lady.
Marion, pulling on her gloves, shook her head. She crouched down again, no eyes for the others in the room, and was unaware that Simone, at a glance from Mistress Keziah, had quietly stolen away.
Marion felt a cold terror grip her heart. Could some one have entered the cell and seen Roger working—seen the arrow and the silk and the cord?
There was the sentry again, idly walking the south front. It seemed hours before he retraced his steps.
As he turned the corner, Roger's face appeared at the grating. He was ready. First knotting the rope to one of the side bars, he pressed his knee against the stone sill, and pulled with both hands first one bar and then another. Slowly the bars yielded. Roger flung out the rope.
What was that? The step of the sentry returning already? Marion leaned out to wave a warning. It was too late. Roger had thrust head and shoulders through the gap. He drew one foot up on to the ledge, then leaning out, caught the rope and bore on it while he freed the other foot. He slid down. Just as he landed on the ground, the sentry swung round the building.
Roger was the first to see the man. For one paralysing instant he stood still. The sentry started and stared, dumb with amazement. Before he had time to level his carbine, before he had the wit to shout, Roger leaped at him, his fists clenched. Out flashed his right hand, and caught the man a crashing upward blow on the jaw. The sentry fell like a log. Roger darted to the wall. Marion only waited to see him spring from the coping into the road. With a swift word to her aunt, she ran along the passage and down the gallery into the hall. The door stood wide open. She sped down to the courtyard gate.
Roger was already there, wrapping himself in the coachman's cloak. Simone was holding his hat and crop. Roger gave a swift look at Marion.