An answer was quickly returned, entreating the young lady, in the warmest possible language, to trust to the Frenchman’s honour and ingenuity, promising, that if she would but faithfully follow his directions, he would not only liberate her from her confinement on the morrow, but ensure her boundless happiness for ever after. Miss Chutney’s curiosity was piqued. However was it possible for the Count to get her out of that room—much less the house—with Wewitz’s eyes continually watching both him and her: and then she ran over several of the best means of escape among heroines similarly situated. She thought of secret doors and sliding panels; but in that unromantic linen-room she felt satisfied that charming pieces of mechanism were hopeless; then she fixed her mind for a moment on a rope; but, on looking cautiously out of the window, she soon convinced herself that even if she could get down one, it would be utterly impossible for him to get one up such a height; next she turned her attention to tying Wewitz’s clean sheets together, and descending from the attic, as she had read of young ladies doing by means of their scarves; but, oh dear! that would never suit her, and she would much prefer a fire-escape, if there were such a thing handy. After this, her thoughts took a higher flight, and she dwelt for a moment on the delightful convenience of signet-rings, and of flinty-hearted keepers mollified by pathetic appeals, together with pampered menials, bribed by “purses of gold;” but these were all equally hopeless; and as she saw no other mode of escape but through the door, the windows, or the panels, and had exhausted every possible method of making her exit by any such means, she felt satisfied that the Count spoke without weighing the difficulties of the task that he proposed. However, as it was certain that there was no chance of his succeeding in such a project, why there _could_ be no harm in just letting the poor man have a try—besides, it would save her the unpleasantness of telling him that she could not listen to his request. Accordingly, after some little cogitation. Miss Chutney wrote in pencil on the blank leaf of the Count’s note— _“I will do as you direct;”_ and hooking it on to the line, flung it from the window. In less than five minutes there was another delivery by the piscatorial post, bringing instructions for the young lady as to how she was to proceed. For the present she was not to speak a word to a living creature, but to feign sulkiness with everybody, and return no answer to any question that might be put to her. Upon this the success of the whole plan depended. Moreover, it would aid the plot greatly if, when any one entered her place of confinement, she appeared sitting with her face buried in her hands, and her apron thrown over her head, as if in deep grief. What could it all mean?