Hurriedly and tearfully, she explained all that had happened; how she had left a note at home, telling them that she was safe, and with friends—and would write more fully at a later time; how she had seen Miss Barnshaw, and how she had a message for him. And, loyal and brave as she had been through everything, her heart seemed to sink deeper and deeper, as she saw the brightness on his face, when he heard what that message was. The warders, seeing in these two, as they imagined, a pair of sweethearts, took but little notice of them, beyond keeping a sharp eye upon them. In reply to Philip’s eager questions, Clara told him of the lodging she had taken, and mentioned the name of her landlady—and of the Captain, husband of that landlady. “There is a Providence in this,” whispered Philip, eagerly. He appeared to be deep in thought for a moment, and then turned swiftly to the girl. “I know this man Quist—a good and honest man, with whom you are safe. Say nothing to him about me, or about my knowledge of him. Now, don’t start or cry out—come closer to me, and listen to what I say. I shall be out of this—I _must_—within a few hours. My defence—my life—everything depends on that—and on myself. There is some one I must find; to stay here means death—within a given time.” “Time’s up!” exclaimed one warder, shaking his keys. “An instant I beg.” He turned again to the girl. “If you could loiter near the prison—at the back of it, so far as I can discover,—each night—can you?” There was no time for anything more; the girl nodded quickly, and was hurried away. But she went home to her lodging with a heart beating more heavily even than before. CHAPTER XVIII A CHASE IN THE DARK Not daring to say a word in explanation to the Captain or Mrs. Quist, Clara went out that night, when darkness had fallen, and waited near the prison. Fortunately, it stood in a quiet spot—not much frequented after nightfall; she found a convenient arched doorway, from which she could watch the building unseen. On the first night, nothing happened; the moon was set high in flying clouds, and the night was very still; now and then, she heard the passing feet of a pedestrian, crossing the end of the street in which she stood; once, a man went along on the opposite side, under the high walls, whistling—but did not see her. Mrs. Quist, having provided her with a key, in her trustfulness of heart, the girl lingered until a very late hour, and until the last footstep had died away. But still there was nothing. On the second night, with a growing hope, she waited again—wishing, with all the strength of her love, that her eyes might pierce the heavy walls, and discover what the prisoner was doing. She had almost given up hoping for anything, and was preparing to return home to her lodging, when a curious sound broke upon her ear, and she started forward out of the gateway, keenly watchful.