ulder, and
then slipping his weapon into his belt again, he put a foot into the
trellis beside the doorway and began climbing. It was a dangerous thing
to attempt, for as he emerged from the shadows below, his figure would
be clearly outlined against the moonlit wall, and a well directed shot
from the garden would send him clattering down like a maimed squirrel
from a tree. But the game was worth the candle, for he had seen that the
window in the room above the door was open, and as he had decided to
enter the house at any cost, this was the only way. But it was slow
work, for the trellis was old, and creaked beneath his weight, and once,
when his foot slipped, he thought he must surely be discovered. Then he
waited, with his fingers almost at the window ledge, listening. He heard
the low murmur of voices, but they seemed to come from another part of
the building, and so risking the whole venture in one effort, he quickly
raised his head above the level of the window-ledge, and peered in. At
first he saw only the flickering shadows of a lamp hanging from the
ceiling, and then a figure in the corner opposite, which startled him
until he saw that it was immovable--a suit of armor upright against the
wall. The room appeared to be empty, and so he grasped the inside of the
sill, and hauled himself up until his shoulders were within the window
opening.

It was then that a female figure started up from a couch just beside
him, stifling a cry. The light from the lantern above fell full upon her
face, and her eyes were staring at him in terror. It was Marishka. He
whispered her name, but still she stared at him wildly, and it was not
until then that he remembered his disguise. He took off his fez, and
spoke to her again.

"Marishka, it is I, Hugh!"

He saw her stare and then take a pace toward him as he clambered into
the room, and in a moment she was in his arms.

"Hugh--beloved!" she murmured brokenly, as she leaned heavily against
him. "I have been so frightened----"

"Marishka! Your hands are ice cold. They have kept you here--against
your will?"

"Yes. And you--Hugh--they've tried----"

"Don't fear," he smiled. "I've as many lives as a cat. Didn't you hear
me scratching my way up the wall? Sh----"

He left her for a moment, and peered out into the darkness of the
garden. All was silent as before, and so he returned and took her in his
arms again.

"You've forgiven me?" he whispered.

"Need you ask? Oh, Hugh,