“Willingly,” replied the jailer.
“Retire then for a moment, while I arrange with him what the token shall be.”
Nightgall hesitated.
“Refuse, and I retract my promise,” she added.
And the jailer, with a suspicious look, reluctantly left the cell.
“Cicely, my beloved,” cried Cholmondeley, clasping her in his arms, “why—why have you done this?”
“To preserve you,” she replied, hurriedly. “Once out of this dungeon, I can bring assistance to liberate you.”
“Indeed!” ejaculated Nightgall, who, having placed his ear to the wall, lost not a syllable of their discourse.
“It will be unavailing,” replied Cholmondeley. “No one will venture to oppose an order of the Council. You must make known my case to Lord Guilford Dudley. Take this ring. Explain all to him, and I may yet be saved. Do you hear me, Cicely?”
“I do,” she replied “And I,” added Nightgall.