For a moment he hesitated. But Edith was still before him. His rough hands were still clasped by her delicate fingers. Her lovely face—pallid, despairful—was gazing up at him with tearful and beseeching eyes. Sergeant Tilley was but a man, and a softhearted one. Here was a beautiful woman begging and praying of him to accept six hundred pounds. “I never could stand out against a woman’s tears,” he said to himself; and being no more than mortal, he succumbed. “Have the money ready by nine o’clock to-night,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll come for it myself, and give three taps at the kitchen-door. One of you can just open the door a few inches, and put the money out, and I’ll take it—and you needn’t see me and I needn’t see you.” Edith pressed the sergeant’s rough hand to her lips, in a passion of gratitude, and then fell back in a dead faint. With a warning finger held up to Lionel, Mr. Tilley quitted the room, and joined the superintendent downstairs. Five minutes later Martha Vince shut the door behind the three men. Mr. Drayton was quite satisfied that Lionel Dering was hidden nowhere about Alder Cottage. “But for the life of me,” he said to his companions as they walked down the garden, “I can’t understand why the doors and windows are fastened up with so many chains, and bolts, and screws, unless they’ve got something hidden somewhere that they are precious sweet on, and want to keep all to themselves.” “Ah,” responded Tilley with a knowing shake of the head, “women are but timorous creatures when they live by themselves, and Alder Cottage is a lonely place at the best of times.” At five minutes past nine that same evening three low, distinct raps sounded on the back door of Alder Cottage. The door was opened a little way, and a hand, holding a bag full of gold and notes, was thrust out into the darkness. Another hand in the darkness took the bag. There was a sound of retreating footsteps; the door was shut and bolted, and all was dark and silent as before. All these things were duly told to Tom Bristow when he next visited Alder Cottage. Lionel was disposed to think that, now the search had proved unsuccessful, all danger, at least for a little while to come, was at an end. But Tom was by no means so satisfied on that point, and what had just happened only made him all the more anxious to get his friend away to some safer and more distant hiding-place. After many conversations and much discussion pro and con., a plan was at length agreed upon which Tom, with characteristic energy, at once began to put into execution. A few days were necessary for the preparation of certain details. But, before those few days were over, quite a new and unexpected turn was given to the course of events at Alder Cottage. CHAPTER VI. FLOWN