"Yes, there's work enough, Miss. I'll not be so frightened no more. Tom Chiffinch, that beat the Finchley pet, after ninety good rounds, was my brother, and I won't show nothing but pluck, Miss, from this out--you'll see." Alice had proposed writing to summon her friends to her aid. But Phœbe protested against that extremely perilous measure. Her friends were away from London; who could say where? And she believed that the attempt to post the letters would miscarry, and that they were certain to fall into the hands of their jailors. She insisted that Alice should rely on the simple plan of escape from Mortlake. Martha Tansey, it is true, was anxious. She wondered how it was that she had not once heard from her young mistress since her journey to Yorkshire. And a passage in a letter which had reached her, from the old servant, at David Arden's town house, who had been mystified by Sir Richard, perplexed and alarmed her further, by inquiring how Miss Alice looked, and whether she had been knocked up by the journey to Arden on Wednesday. So matters stood. Each evening Mr. Levi was in attendance, and this day, according to rule, she went down to the grand old dining-room. "How'sh Miss Chiffinch?" said the little Jew, advancing to meet her; "how'sh her grashe the duchess, in the top o' the houshe? Ish my Lady Mount-garret ash proud ash ever?" "Well, I do think, Mr. Levice, there's a great change; she's bin growing better the last two days, and she's got a letter last night that's seemed to please her." "Wha'at letter?" "The letter you gave me last night for her." "O-oh! Ah! I wonder--eh? Do you happen to know what wa'azh in that ere letter?" he asked, in an insinuating whisper. "Not I, Mr. Levice. She don't trust me not as far as you'd throw a bull by the tail. You might 'av' managed that better. You must 'a frightened her some way about me. I try to be agreeable all I can, but she won't a-look at me." "Well, I don't want to know, _I'm_ sure. Did she talk of going out of doors since?" "No; there's a frost in the hair still, and she says till that's gone she won't stir out." "That frost will last a bit, I guess. Any more newshe?" "Nothing." "Wait a minute 'ere," said Mr. Levi, and he went into the room beyond this, where she knew there were writing materials. She waited some time, and at length took the liberty of sitting down. She was kept a good while longer. The sun went down; the drowsy crimson that heralds night overspread the sky. She coughed; several fits of coughing she tried at short intervals. Had Mr. Levice, as she called him, forgotten her? He came out at length in the twilight. "Shtay you 'ere a few minutes more," said that gentleman, as he walked thoughtfully through the room and paused. "You wazh asking yesterday where izh Sir Richard Arden. Well, hezh took hishelf off to Harden in Yorkshire, and he'll not be 'ome again for a week."