“You are very much alive to me, Fräulein,” I returned warmly; “and by the help of Providence shall be so soon to the rest of the world. But premature action would be fatal. You must make up your mind to another four-and-twenty hours in this place.”
“If I dared hope—for twenty-four seconds——”
“You must call cunning to our aid. To bridge over the time in safety between now and freedom, life——”
“Ah!” she cried. “Herr Tyrrell, don’t make me hope. It is cruel.”
“Indeed, no, if we walk warily. You must temporize with the Count. Appear inclined to relent. I can leave that to your wit. Only keep things as they are till to-morrow evening, when I will return, not to leave without you. Now, I hate to go, Fräulein, but the risk to you in staying is too great. Keep a good heart; above all do not let anyone see that you have hope, and trust me.”
She gave me the sweetest little nod of courage and thanks and stretched her hand through the bars. As I kissed it I felt I could never let it go. But prudence reasserted itself, and we parted.
I had little difficulty in finding my way back through the subterranean passage. The horrors of the place, its murkiness, the dripping roof and walls, the dank, unwholesome atmosphere were as nothing to me now. The vile way led from darkness to light; and by the time I had traversed it and reached the entrance and the open air my plans for the morrow’s attempt were formed.
CHAPTER XXXIII
AN OMINOUS VISIT