Now, very greatly though I desired Idonia should know of my safe return, I yet could not bring myself to leave Malpas thus exposed and subject to every chance indignity by the wayside, nor was I willing to carry him openly to the Inn or any house at hand; so that, after some while's reflection, I decided to lay him in the boat I had come down by, covering his face with the sailcloth, and after, to launch him out into the ebbing stream. The night was clear above, the thunder having wholly passed; but from a mounting wrack of cloud that peered above the edges of the sky and a chill light wind athwart the river, I judged we should have rain before morning, and so hastened to be done with my task (which unspeakably revolted me) and get into shelter against the oncoming tempest. Notwithstanding 'twas the better part of an hour ere I had completed these hasty and suspicious rites, and had shoved away the skiff with its gaunt recumbent passenger outward (or was it homeward?) bound. These pious offices done, I turned with a sigh from the black hurrying water, and approached near to the Inn. I was surprised to see that a light now shone in Idonia's chamber, and from the shadows that now and then traversed it, I understood that she was not yet retired to rest. How then I might direct her attention to me without at the same time attracting such attention of others as I might well enough spare, I very earnestly debated; but at length, minding myself of the knife I had got from the dead Chinese, I drew it forth; and having torn off a great burdock leaf where it grew by the bank, pricked with the knife's point the one word Denis (sufficient for my purpose, I thought), and running the blade through the midst of the leaf, poised, and let fly with it at the window. It struck the sill fairly, and hung quivering. My heart stood still during the interval that succeeded, but when presently that sweet small head appeared, all dark against the glory of her hair, it leapt to my very throat for excess of joy. "Idonia," I whispered hoarsely, and came right beneath her window as I spoke her name; "Idonia, I have come back." "Hush, dear," she besought me, and leaned forth from the sill, so that a strand or two of her hair hung down and touched the letters of my name in the leaf. "Do not speak again.... Oh, I have been waiting for you, Denis! But you are come; I can see your face. I can see your eyes..." "You speak as if you feared something," I replied, in disregard of her warning. "Are you threatened with any danger?" "No," she said; "at least I do not comprehend what may be dangers here. For it is a house of mystery. My guardian has but now left me. He is disguised: I cried out when I saw him.... Oh, Denis, I am horribly afraid here.... It is all so silent, and yet I know the place is full of men." I hesitated no longer. "Is there anything by which you can make a rope?" I asked, "any sheet from your bed, or clothing?" She caught at my intention.