At the same moment an obstacle presented itself to her mind, which Iris

had thus far failed to foresee.

Lord Harry might approach the milestone by three different ways: that

is to say--by the road from the town, or by the road from the open

country, or by way of the field and the culvert. How could she so place

herself as to be sure of warning him, before he fell into the hands of

the police? To watch the three means of approach in the obscurity of

the night, and at one and the same time, was impossible.

A man in this position, guided by reason, would in all probability have

wasted precious time in trying to arrive at the right decision. A

woman, aided by love, conquered the difficulty that confronted her in a

moment.

Iris decided on returning to the milestone, and on waiting there to be

discovered and taken prisoner by the police. Supposing Lord Harry to be

punctual to his appointment, he would hear voices and movements, as a

necessary consequence of the arrest, in time to make his escape.

Supposing him on the other hand to be late, the police would be on the

way back to the town with their prisoner: he would find no one at the

milestone, and would leave it again in safety.

She was on the point of turning, to get back to the road, when

something on the dark surface of the field, which looked like a darker

shadow, became dimly visible. In another moment it seemed to be a

shadow that moved. She ran towards it. It looked like a man as she drew

nearer. The man stopped.

"The password," he said, in tones cautiously lowered.

"Fidelity," she answered in a whisper.

It was too dark for a recognition of his features; but Iris knew him by

his tall stature--knew him by the accent in which he had asked for the

password. Erroneously judging of her, on his side, as a man, he drew

back again. Sir Giles Mountjoy was above the middle height; the

stranger in a cloak, who had whispered to him, was below it. "You are

not the person I expected to meet," he said. "Who are you?"

Her faithful heart was longing to tell him the truth. The temptation to

reveal herself, and to make the sweet confession of her happiness at

having saved him, would have overpowered her discretion, but for a

sound that was audible on the road behind them. In the deep silence of

the time and place mistake was impossible. It was the sound of

footsteps.




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