“Go and bring my breakfast,” she commanded, coldly. “That is all I want of you.”
“Oh! it is, is it? Humph! Well, you shall have more of me than you want, afore you’re through here, I reckon. Your breakfast you shall have, miss, at once.” And with a mocking obeisance she left the cell, not forgetting to lock its door behind her.
Trembling like a leaf, Violet stood gazing after the retreating figure, until the closing door cut off her view; then she turned dejectedly away.
Tap! tap! Surely that was something tapping at the iron-barred window. Even as she gazed, a folded paper, attached to a long pole, appeared at the bars.
How did it come there? For the room was in the third story.
She climbed upon the table once more, and secured the note, for such it proved to be.
Then she saw that it had come from a neighboring balcony, where the same negro girl whom she had seen with Dunbar was busily employed in washing windows. Violet’s quick brain grasped the situation. Dunbar was helping her, even as she knew he would.
Hurriedly descending from the table, she opened the note with trembling fingers.
“Dear Miss Arleigh,” it said, “don’t eat or drink anything in this place, even though you perish of starvation. But you shall not do that; for I shall have you out of there this very night. Do all that you are told to do. Go with Gilbert Warrington to your marriage. Be quiet and obedient, and I will do the rest. Trust me! I will not fail you.