“We hope you will convey our thanks to Mr. Dering,” said the head warder, “and we are greatly obliged to you, sir. We are not allowed to receive presents of any kind, but in this case——”
“Which is an exceptional one,” said Tom, “you won’t refuse.”
“If we were sure,” said the warder in a low voice, “that it would never come to the governor’s ears——”
“You may take my word that it never will. You can trust me, of course; and, in business matters, Creede here is as silent as the grave.”
“In that case——”
“You will act like men of sense and keep the money. Good-night.”
“Good-night, sir, and many thanks to you. Good-night both.”
Thank Heaven! at last the terrible door was shut behind them.
Ten minutes later a black shadow crept silently up to the door of Alder Cottage.
Front and back the little house was all in darkness; but the door was ajar, and close behind it knelt—she had stood there till she could stand no longer—Edith, listening—listening with beating heart and straining nerves—with every sense on the alert. The black shadow touched the door. The door yielded to the touch. Another black shadow started up from the ground. Husband and wife met heart to heart. Lionel Dering was saved.