She deliberated long. Two alternatives lay before her--to go back to her own room, or to try to pass that door. To go back was as repulsive as death, in fact more so. If the choice had been placed full before her then, to die on the spot or to go back to her room, she would have deliberately chosen death. The thought of returning, therefore, was the last upon which she could dwell, and that of going forward was the only one left. To this she gave her attention. At last she made up her mind, and advanced cautiously, close by the wall, toward the hall-door. After a time she reached the door of the dining-room. Could she venture to pass it, and how? She paused. She listened. There were low voices in the room. Then they were still awake, still able to detect her if she passed the door. She looked all around. The hall was wide. On the opposite side the wall was but feebly lighted. The hall lights had been put out, and those which shone from the room extended forward but a short distance. It was just possible therefore to escape observation by crossing the doorway along the wall that was most distant from it. Yet before she tried this she ventured to put forward her head so as to peep into the room. She stooped low and looked cautiously and slowly. The three were there at the farthest end of the room. Bottles and glasses stood before them, and they were conversing in low tones. Those tones, however, were not so low but that they reached her ears. They were speaking about _her_. “How could she have found it out?” said Clark. “Mrs. Compton only knows _one thing_,” said Potts, “and that is _the secret about her_. She knows nothing more. How could she?” “Then how could that cursed girl have found out about the Thug business?” exclaimed John. There was no reply. “She’s a deep one,” said John, “d--d deep--deeper than I ever thought. I always said she was plucky--cursed plucky--but now I see she’s deep too--and I begin to have my doubts about the way she ought to be took down.” “I never could make her out,” said Potts. “And now I don’t even begin to understand how she could know that which only we have known. Do you think, Clark, that the devil could have told her of it?” “Yes,” said Clark. “Nobody but the devil could have told her that, and my belief is that she’s the devil himself. She’s the only person I ever felt afraid of. D--n it, I can’t look her in the face.” Beatrice retreated and passed across to the opposite wall. She did not wish to see or hear more. She glided by. She was not noticed. She heard John’s voice--sharp and clear-- “We’ll have to begin to-morrow and take her down--that’s a fact.” This was followed by silence. Beatrice reached the door. She turned the knob. Oh, joy! it was not locked. It opened. Noiselessly she passed through; noiselessly she shut it behind her. She was outside. She was free.