‘Thank heaven, you are safe, so far, Oswald!’ exclaimed the lady—Miss Cleabyrn, of course—‘and I know you can confide in our friend Waltress; so I trust you are out of the toils.’ ‘Yes,’ said the captain, turning to me and grasping my hand. I knew him by his voice and by Miss Cleabyrn’s words; but had we met casually, I assuredly should not have recognised him. His glossy moustache and full whiskers were gone, while a light wig hid what was left of his dark curls. ‘I know I can trust him,’ he said; ‘I knew it the first time I saw his face.—But leave me now, dearest; it will only be for a time—a short time, ere we meet again. Thank our friend Waltress, and let us say farewell.’ Miss Cleabyrn offered her hand—there was such a queer thrill in my own veins as I touched it, such a recalling of past days!—and she said a few words expressive of her gratitude. These were only few; but with her soft voice in my ears, and the sight of her now swimming eyes before me, I would have dared death in her service. She then threw her arms round the captain’s neck, and strove to frame a farewell, but broke down terribly, so that for a few minutes she was hysterical, and I dreaded lest she might scream aloud, and thus give the alarm to any chance traveller, or, it might be, any concealed watcher. But she recovered herself as quickly as she had broken down, dashed the tears from her eyes, gave one passionate kiss, and then fled into the darkness. ‘My poor dear girl,’ said the captain, with some hesitation in his voice, as he gazed after her. ‘I feel that I ought to have gone with her, and yet I know it would have been madness.—We were traced here, Waltress, for all I know; the watch upon me has been very close.’ I told him how I fancied I had seen two persons, when Miss Cleabyrn had left my box on the previous night. ‘Yes,’ he said, with a smile; ‘I joined her at the foot of the bank. But you must have good eyes.’ I explained that he misunderstood me; that I thought I had seen two persons follow the lady, although, in such a storm and in the darkness, it was impossible to be certain. He was a good deal disturbed at hearing this, being evidently at once convinced that my suspicions were well founded. He had not been long in my hut, and we were talking about the best method of first concealing him and then getting him away, when I suddenly stopped in my speech and listened at the door. ‘What is the matter?’ asked Laurenston. ‘I heard a step of some one walking round the box,’ I returned; ‘and I am sure there is a man on the rails. No one has any business there at this time.’ In another instant a low whistle was heard. ‘They mean mischief,’ I said; ‘you are caged! These men are following you.’ The captain turned pale, and thrust his hand into his breast.