Sitting thus, engaged with his own angry thoughts, he lost count of time, until presently he was startled by another sound of the striking of pebbles against glass. But the curious thing was, that it was not his window which received the attack this time, but another—for the sound was far less distinct. The Inspector quietly blew out his candle, and crept to the window.
In a few moments, there was another little shower of pebbles; and the Inspector, quietly drawing aside the blind, peered down into the darkness. Then he heard the creak of a window being softly raised, and a bright light, as from a candle, fell on the ground below, and on a figure standing there. And this figure, raising its head, and looking up, revealed to the watching Tokely the face of Dandy Chater, who should have been, by all right and propriety, at that moment in Chelmsford Jail.
“Little mother!” came in a quick whisper from below; and a voice—that of Mrs. Siggs—responded promptly in the same cautious fashion.
“Oh, my dear, dear boy. Wait just one blessed minute, and I’ll come down to you,” cried Betty, softly.
“Wait just one blessed minute, and I’ll come down to you,” muttered the Inspector to himself. “This is a piece of luck, indeed!” The Inspector crept away from the window, and began, hurriedly and noiselessly, to get into his garments.
In a few moments, he heard, as he had fully anticipated, a rustling upon the staircase, and a quick footstep going downwards; immediately after, the cautious drawing back of bolts, and the turning of a key; then, the subdued sound of voices. The Inspector dressed with greater rapidity than ever.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Siggs had drawn Philip into the little parlour, and had laid her old head—nightcap and all—upon his shoulder, and was crying comfortably. It was some time before she could compose herself sufficiently to listen to what he had to say; but she did at last, only punctuating what he said by an occasional sob.
“First—for my time is very short—about Clara,” he said. “I blame myself horribly for all the anxiety she has caused you; but you know, little mother, that she fell in love with that scapegrace brother of mine, and only transferred her affections to me, without knowing it. But the child’s safe—I give you my word for it; and I think you can trust me, Betty, to deliver her into your hands again, when the time comes for speaking the truth. But that time is not yet; for the present, you must be silent; everything I value most on earth depends on that. I am getting nearer, every hour, little mother, to the end of my difficulties; I am on the track of the man who murdered my brother, and can declare my innocence. If I can remain free but a few hours longer, I may be able to devise some plan—some way out of the tangle. Don’t you see my strange position; that, for my own sake, as well as yours, I want to declare to the world that I am Philip Chater, and innocent of all these sins which have been visited upon me; while, for the sake of one dear woman, I want to remain Dandy Chater, because—God help me!—she loves Dandy Chater—and I am a stranger to her.”
“Well—yer don’t stand much chance of goin’ free if yer chucks stones up at that there Tokely’s winder,” said Betty, laughing through her tears.
“I had no idea that the man was still here,” replied Philip, “and, of course, I couldn’t be expected to know which window was yours; I had to take the risk of that. But I saw his light go out; there’s no doubt that he is sleeping peacefully, and dreaming of anything but Dandy Chater.”