“That is my step-mother calling me. She has returned. I had no idea it was so late. What shall we do? She mustn’t see you here, and yet you can’t get out without passing the house.” “I can go over the wall. I wonder who lives in the next house?” “It is vacant, but the wall is high, and there is broken glass on the top.” “I’ll have a try for it, any way.” They passed through the shrubbery to the dividing wall. “Oh, I am sure you can’t do it, and you will cut your hands.” Marsten pulled off his coat; threw it, widespread, over the barbarous broken glass; stepped back as far as the shrubbery would allow him, and took a running jump, catching the top of the wall with his hands where the coat covered the glass. Next instant he was up, putting on his coat, while his boots crunched the broken bottles. “You haven’t cut yourself? I’m so glad. Good-by!” she whispered up at him, her face aglow with excitement. “One moment,” he said, in a low but distinct voice. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you my plans.” “Oh, please, please jump down; my mother may be here at any moment.” The cry of “Edna!” came again from the house. “It’s all right yet,” whispered Marsten. “But I must know what you think of my plans. I’ll be here at this hour to-morrow, and if the coast is clear would you throw your shawl, or a ribbon, or anything, on the wall where my coat was, so that I can see it from this side?” “Do go. If you are seen it will spoil everything. I don’t know what to say about to-morrow. I’ll think over it.” “Remember, I shall be on this side. You make everything so clear that I must consult you about this--it is very important.” “Yes, yes. I promise, but you are risking it all by remaining there.” Marsten jumped down into another man’s garden and pushed his trespass ruthlessly over and through whatever came in his way, until he reached the gate and was out once more on the public way. The safety signal, “To be Let,” was in the windows of the house and on a board above the high wall. “Ah, Barney Hope,” he muttered, clenching his fist, “all the good things of this world are not for you. Once over the wall is worth a dozen times through the gate. I fancy I need instruction on my duty to my employers quite as much as you require having your obligations to the workingman explained to you.” CHAPTER XVI. “Edna, where are you?” “Here, mother.” “You heard me calling you; why did you not answer?” “I have answered by coming to you. How is Mr. Hope?” “In a dreadfully nervous state. He thinks he is not hurt, but I am sure he has been injured internally, which is far worse than outward wounds, as I told him. He seems to be strung on wires, and jumps every time his wife makes the most casual remark to him. I advised him to see a physician, and know the worst at once. And Mrs. Hope tells me he acts very queerly. He took scarcely any breakfast this morning yet before lunch he ordered into the study a simply enormous meal, and devoured it all alone.”