It was only made possible by the efforts of Jack Rattenbury, assisted by some of the Bindon labourers placed at his disposal by Mrs. Jose. By his direction a pathway was cut down the face of the chalk precipice on the land side at a point where the ravine was choked with accumulations that had fallen in, and by means of planks and ropes the chasm was passed and the farther side ascended, and then Winefred, followed by her father and Mrs. Jose, was enabled, with the assistance of Jack, and walking with wariness, to arrive at the cottage.
It was locked, but when Winefred called, she heard a muffled voice reply from within.
The front door was too stout to be easily broken open, but that at the back yielded and the rescue party entered.
They found Mrs. Marley on the floor. She was in a sitting posture, her hands still bound behind her, her hair dishevelled, but the blood from the wound in her head was staunched. She had succeeded, by some means, in freeing her mouth from the gags. Her eyes were dull. The colour had died from her face, the fire from her heart. She breathed, looked dazedly before her, and seemed listless when her daughter, Mr. Holwood, and the rest entered.
Winefred pulled back what of the curtain remained obscuring the chamber. Through the back door that faced west a stronger light entered and penetrated to the room where Jane crouched. Jack Rattenbury had at once cut the bands that confined her hands, and although the woman was able to bring her arms forward, they were stiff, and her hands frightfully swollen.
Mrs. Jose had run for water, but the spring that had supplied the cottage was dried up. There remained, however, a little in a vessel in the back kitchen, and with this Jane's face was bathed as Winefred rested her mother's head on her bosom. The cuts in her head were not serious. The girl hasted to tie up the draggled hair.
The men who had assisted to make a path had been relegated to the outside. It was probable, if Jane Marley were unable to walk, that they would be required to carry her. Mr. Holwood remained looking at her intently, his weak lower lip fallen. She did not notice him. Her eyes were for her daughter only, who bowed over her, kissed her repeatedly, and whose tears dripped upon her face.
'Are you better now, mother darling? Do you think you could rise?'
Winefred supporting her on one side, Jack on the other, the woman staggered to her feet, and at once recovered self-possession. She raised her head, looked at the wrists and swollen fingers and passed her hands over her eyes.