Elithe was persuaded, and, with a promise not to fail, she left Tom and returned to the cottage, where supper was waiting for her. But neither she nor her aunt could eat much. Their thoughts were with the incidents of the day they had passed, and which seemed to have added years to Miss Hansford’s age and Elithe’s feelings. They didn’t talk of it. They could not, and at an early hour they said good-night to each other and went to their respective sleeping rooms. Once alone, Elithe began to waver and wish she had not promised Tom to join him. Then came thoughts of Paul and the joy it would be to see him free; aye, more, to help set him free, and she hesitated no longer. She heard the clock strike ten; then, overcome with fatigue, fell asleep in her chair, but awoke again as the clock was striking eleven. In an hour she was due at the boat-house, and, with her hat on, she sat down to wait and calculate how much time she ought to allow to reach it. It was dark, and once or twice she heard the sound of thunder in the distance and, as she leaned from the window to listen, she felt a coolness, like coming rain, upon her face. It must be time now, she thought, to start, and, with a noiseless step, she went down the back stairs and through the kitchen door. Once outside, she breathed more freely and felt her way cautiously along the piazza to the front steps, uttering a smothered cry as a hand grasped her arm. “Hush!” came warningly from Tom, who had come to meet her. “It’s awfully dark; there’s a storm brewing, and I thought you might be afraid,” he said, keeping hold of her and hurrying her along to the boat house. The wind was rising, and the sea was running high with an angry sound in it, and white caps showing through the darkness. “Oh, Tom, I’m afraid. Let’s walk,” Elithe said, drawing back from a great wave which came rolling into the boat house. “There’s danger on the road and none on the sea. I’ve been out in much rougher weather than this,” Tom said, lifting Elithe into the boat. He was very calm and fearless, and his calmness helped to quiet Elithe as they pushed out upon the dark water, keeping as near the shore as possible, until they landed at a point nearly opposite the jail. A few drops of rain were beginning to fall as they groped their way across the sands and the strip of meadow, or marsh land, between it and the highway. Everything about the building was still as death. The jailer was unquestionably asleep, and possibly Paul. “But we’ll soon have him awake and with us,” Tom said, encouragingly, to Elithe. “Here’s the stone I’ve sat on many a night and planned this raid. You sit here now and keep these matches under your sacque away from the rain till I tell you to give me one. Maybe I shall want you to help a little with the bars.”