looked up and grunted. I followed the boy's glance, and saw a
tall, dark woman walking swiftly along on the other side of the road.
From the very first her figure was somehow familiar to me, and

She stopped outside the closed door, and hesitated for a moment,
as though doubtful whether to ring or not. During her moment of
hesitation she glanced round, and I recognised her. She could not see
me, for I was in the shadow of the underground tunnel.

"Blarmed if she ain't come again," the man growled. "She's as regular
as clockwork! Wonder what she wants!"

I felt my knees trembling; I could not have crossed the road at
that moment if it had been to save my life. The boy looked up at me
curiously.

"Happen you know her, lady," he remarked. "She's been here at this
time, or thereabouts, pretty near every day for a fortnight."

Happen I know her! Yes, that was the boy's odd phrase. It rang in my
ears, and I found myself gasping for breath. My eyes were fixed upon
that tall, slender figure, clothed in sober black, waiting upon the
doorstep with bowed head, and standing very still and motionless. It
was like an effigy of patience. There were not two women in the world
like that; it was impossible. She was in England, and alone--free!
What did it mean? Should I run to her, or hide away? I glanced over my
shoulder where the black shadows of the tunnel were only dimly lit by
the feeble gaslight. I could steal away, and she would never see
me. Yet as I thought of it, the grimy, barren street and the
solemn-looking building faded away before my eyes. The sun and wind
burned my face; the wind, salt with ocean spray, and echoing with the
hoarse screaming of the sea-birds that rode upon it. I was at Cruta
again, panting to be free, stealing away in the twilight down the
narrow path amongst the rocks to where that tiny boat lay waiting,
like a speck upon the waters. And it was she who had helped me--the
sad-faced woman who had braved the terrible anger of the man whom we
had both dreaded. Again I heard her gentle words of counsel, and the
answering lies which should have blistered my lips. For I lied to her,
not hastily or on impulse, but deliberately in cold blood. Anything,
I cried to myself, to escape from this rock, this living death! So I
lied to her, and she helped me. No wonder that I trembled. No wonder
that I half made up my mind to flee away into the sheltering darkness
of that noisome-looking tunnel.

It takes long to