“You haven’t cut yourself? I’m so glad. Good-by!” she whispered up at him, her face aglow with excitement.
“One moment,” he said, in a low but distinct voice. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you my plans.”
“Oh, please, please jump down; my mother may be here at any moment.”
The cry of “Edna!” came again from the house.
“It’s all right yet,” whispered Marsten. “But I must know what you think of my plans. I’ll be here at this hour to-morrow, and if the coast is clear would you throw your shawl, or a ribbon, or anything, on the wall where my coat was, so that I can see it from this side?”
“Do go. If you are seen it will spoil everything. I don’t know what to say about to-morrow. I’ll think over it.”
“Remember, I shall be on this side. You make everything so clear that I must consult you about this—it is very important.”
“Yes, yes. I promise, but you are risking it all by remaining there.”
Marsten jumped down into another man’s garden and pushed his trespass ruthlessly over and through whatever came in his way, until he reached the gate and was out once more on the public way. The safety signal, “To be Let,” was in the windows of the house and on a board above the high wall.
“Ah, Barney Hope,” he muttered, clenching his fist, “all the good things of this world are not for you. Once over the wall is worth a dozen times through the gate. I fancy I need instruction on my duty to my employers quite as much as you require having your obligations to the workingman explained to you.”