"Is it you, Miss Baynard, whom I see? and here, of all places in the universe!"
Dare's voice broke the spell that was upon her, and recalled to her, as in a flash, the very real business--the matter of life and death--which had taken her there, and which must be entered on without a minute's unnecessary delay.
"Yes, it is I, Mr. Dare," she answered in accents that were slightly tremulous. "You did me and mine a great, nay, an inestimable service; and I am here to see whether I cannot do something for you in return."
A bitter smile lit up his sallow features for a moment. "It is indeed good of you to have put yourself to so much trouble about such a worthless wretch as I. But, were I a hundred-fold more worthy than I am, neither you, Miss Baynard, nor any power on earth (save and except the King's clemency, which is altogether out of the question) could do aught to help me out of the coil of trouble which I have brought upon myself."
"Do not be too sure on that point, Mr. Dare. It is the humblest instruments which sometimes avail for the most difficult tasks. We have all read the fable of the lion and the mouse, and cases might arise in which even such an inconsiderable person as I, owing to my very insignificance might be able to do things which would be impossible in any one of greater importance." Her voice was firm enough by now, and her eyes confronted his unwaveringly. She had pushed up her veil till only an edge of it was visible across her forehead at the moment the turnkey had locked the door behind her.
Dare bowed, but looked slightly puzzled. To what was all this the prelude? That she had not come there without having some very special purpose in view he could no longer doubt. But merely to see her face again was to him what the sight of water is to some poor wretch dying of thirst in the desert. To himself he always spoke of her as the Lady of his Dreams.
"Will you not be seated, Miss Baynard?" he now said, as he brought forward a substantial three-legged stool, the only thing, except his pallet, he had to sit on. "My accommodation is of the simplest, as you can see for yourself. That, however, is not my fault, but an oversight (shall we call it?) on the part of my custodians, whose affection for me is so extreme that they cannot bear to part from me."
So Nell sat down on the three-legged stool, while Dare stood a little apart, with folded arms, resting a shoulder against the whitewashed wall of his cell.
Miss Baynard cleared her voice; the crucial moment had come at last.
"I am not here this evening, Mr. Dare, merely to sympathize with you," she resumed, "although that my most heartfelt sympathy is yours needs no assurance on my part, but to put before you a certain definite proposition, which has been carefully thought out in all its details, and the carrying out of which seems to me perfectly feasible. Here, in the fewest words possible--necessarily few because half an hour at the outside must bring my visit to an end--is my proposition. It is simply that you and I shall change places. In half a hour from now you shall quit this cell in the guise of Elinor Baynard, and I shall stay where I am, having, for the nonce, exchanged my personality for that of Mr. Geoffrey Dare."