Jim had perfected his plans for Rupert’s escape. He outlined them in detail to Marjorie. Her help would be wanted; and her task, he said, would perhaps be the most difficult task. On Monday evening she would receive a telegram from him telling her of the flight he was going to make from Netheravon to Plymouth. On receipt of the wire she was to go up to Post Bridge Hall, ostensibly at a request the telegram would contain, to show the message to Jim’s father. But she would find Sir Reginald out. Jim knew he would be at Moretonhampstead on business. She was to wait for him, and Jim gave her the keys of his workroom and cellar. Rupert already had duplicates. The telegram would contain certain code words, of which Jim gave her the translation. She was to find some way of giving her brother the message they contained—the exact hour he was to leave his hiding-place and make his way across Dartmoor to a certain spot already decided on. "If he fails it will be bad luck," Jim said. "But as far as is humanly possible he can’t fail. No one would recognise in the smart, soldierly-looking young fellow the late Convict 381. If he gets safely away I shall send you a wire from Plymouth—just two words: ’Flight successful,’ that’s all. There’s only one man I fear: the man who would like to be my rival—Despard. Once or twice in the evening lately I’ve seen him hanging around The Hall. It’s impossible he could suspect the plans we’ve formed. I don’t believe for an instant he knows where Rupert’s hiding. If he did, he’d speak, and give him up, or only keep silence on condition that you——" Marjorie stopped him. "You needn’t fear, Jim. He suspects something, I know. On Monday night, after I’ve been to Post Bridge Hall, I’ll make it my business to keep Mr. Despard at the farm until I know that Rupert’s safely away. I can keep him—I’m a woman." They reached the bridge, and stood for a few minutes gazing down into the foaming waters. Presently Jim held out his hand: "Au revoir," he said quietly. And he lowered his voice for a moment. "Next time we meet I hope I shall have a marriage licence in my pocket." "Au revoir, my lover," she whispered. "Remember, whatever happens, I’m yours and only yours: ready to follow you to the end of the world." He took off his hat, kissed her hand, then nodding cheerily, he strode away. She watched him out of sight. He was risking his life, his honour, his reputation, for her sake. If he failed, she knew she would never see him again. CHAPTER XXII. JIM STARTS OFF. The great plain stretched away in the sunlight, broken only by the silver line of the little Avon river and the Downs—like giant molehills—to the north. It was early morning, but all was activity and bustle at Netheravon. The great rows of "hangars" gleaming in the bright sunshine were already open, and groups of men—mechanics and cleaners—were busy on the aeroplanes they contained.