"When will you make the attempt?" she asked.
"Two hours before dawn to-morrow," he answered.
"Why so late?"
"Because the nights are moonlight."
"I'll be ready," she whispered.
"Make the child ready, also," he said.
"Indeed, yes," she whispered.
"Say nothing to anyone, and if anyone questions you, answer as little as you may. Whatever you hear, whatever you see, whatever I may do or pretend to do, speak not a word, give not a sign, change not a feature. Do you promise?"
"Yes," she whispered, "yes, yes."
And then suddenly a new thought smote her.