My heart was thumping with excitement—my fingers were trembling so that I could hardly find the keyhole. It seemed ages before the lock turned and I stepped out into the cold winter night.
Although every second was precious, I took the time to close the door behind me and lock it. By thus concealing the way I had gone I would delay my pursuers just so much.
From an open window above me floated the voice of one of the matron's little daughters as I picked my way through the snow, bareheaded and with house slippers, avoiding the regular path.
"Mamma," she was saying; "why doesn't Sophie bring the rest of my dinner?"
"She'll bring it in a minute," the mother replied.
I heaved a sigh of relief—quite evidently my absence had not yet caused any suspicion.
Hurling the key into a snowdrift, I ran to the waiting sleigh. Ned was standing beside the sleigh with a big warm fur coat outstretched in his arms. Without a word I slipped into the coat, hopped into the sleigh, and Ned gave the horses a clip with the whip and away we dashed toward Poughkeepsie.
The long fur coat and stylish hat which Ned had brought made me look like anything but an escaped convict. After a good warm supper at Poughkeepsie, we took the night train for New York and reached there safely the next morning.
And so we were free!
But what had we gained by our escape? We shall see.