“Anyhow he’ll know his fate by this time to-morrow,” said the warder. They followed the man along the corridor and through two or three passages, till they reached the outer courtyard. Here they were joined by two other warders. Tom, all this time, had been talking volubly, and making ample use of his big pocket-handkerchief—doing his best, in fact, to keep his companion from being overmuch noticed. But now had come the most dangerous moment of all. They were all crowded together close to the outer gate, waiting for it to be unfastened—the three warders, Tom, and Lionel—under the light of a flaring gas-lamp. The slightest hesitation—the least want of presence of mind—might have been fatal to everything. Happily, Tom was equal to the occasion. While waiting for the bolts to be withdrawn, his thumb and finger slid into his waistcoat pocket, and the quick ears of the warders caught the pleasant chink of gold. “Mr. Dering,” said Tom, “would insist on my presenting you gentlemen with ten sovereigns to divide amongst you, as a slight token of his appreciation of your unvarying kindness. Here’s the money; and I hope you won’t forget to drink Mr. Dering’s health before you are many hours older.” He pressed the gold into the hands of the nearest warder. The men’s thoughts at once became occupied with the consideration of a fair and equal division of the gift. A moment later the door stood wide open. Tom, followed by Lionel, passed slowly out. “We hope you will convey our thanks to Mr. Dering,” said the head warder, “and we are greatly obliged to you, sir. We are not allowed to receive presents of any kind, but in this case——” “Which is an exceptional one,” said Tom, “you won’t refuse.” “If we were sure,” said the warder in a low voice, “that it would never come to the governor’s ears——” “You may take my word that it never will. You can trust me, of course; and, in business matters, Creede here is as silent as the grave.” “In that case——” “You will act like men of sense and keep the money. Good-night.” “Good-night, sir, and many thanks to you. Good-night both.” Thank Heaven! at last the terrible door was shut behind them. Ten minutes later a black shadow crept silently up to the door of Alder Cottage. Front and back the little house was all in darkness; but the door was ajar, and close behind it knelt—she had stood there till she could stand no longer—Edith, listening—listening with beating heart and straining nerves—with every sense on the alert. The black shadow touched the door. The door yielded to the touch. Another black shadow started up from the ground. Husband and wife met heart to heart. Lionel Dering was saved. CHAPTER IV. MR. DRAYTON’S SUSPICIONS