He had saved her life, he had sheltered her, she was bound to do everything in her power to save him. Of that she had not the smallest doubt, and her resolution was formed to do her utmost, even in despite of her mother, should she offer opposition. After an hour Jane Marley fastened the house door and retired to her room. She would not have run the bolt had she anticipated that Rattenbury would return that night. Her action convinced Winefred that he had told her mother not to expect him back. What could she do? She listened to the ticking of the clock and awaited the striking of the hours. When ten o'clock sounded, then she was well aware that not another minute must be lost. Noiselessly she crept out of bed and clothed herself; she hearkened whether her mother stirred, but heard no sound. On tiptoe, her shoes in her hand, she stole over the kitchen floor, and with caution and slowly drew the bolt. The moment the door was open, a rush of cold air fanned the embers on the hearth into a glow; but she hastily passed outside, shut the door behind her and breathed freely. She was, at any rate, safe now from obstruction by her mother. Even if the latter had heard her, pursuit would be in vain; she could easily elude it among the thickets and in the dark. She drew on her shoes. All within was still, she had not been overheard, her mother had not been roused. Her heart beat furiously, and she was frightened at her undertaking. It was not that she was alarmed at being abroad and at night, but she was well aware of the magnitude of the issues dependent on her action. If she failed――the goods would be confiscated, the band broken up, and the captain imprisoned for a lengthy period. At his age he might not live till his term expired. The stars twinkled, a crescent moon shone, there was frost in the air. Winefred had formed her plan, and she knew her way. She had to ascend from the undercliff to the down, and the chalky path lay before her as though phosphorescent. There would have been complete stillness but for the mutter and fret of the sea and the piping of the wind. The smugglers would certainly have preferred less light and more noise, a howling wind, a blinding fog, and a booming sea. Above every sound Winefred could hear the throbbing of her heart.