as we stood facing
each other, he took my hand in farewell. I proposed our going on
together, but this he would not hear of.

"No," he said, with his grim laugh, "the sooner I and that suit of
clothes part company, the better!"

So we wished each other God-speed, and turned on our different ways--he
going back through the tunnel, and I keeping on.

[Illustration: "WE WISHED EACH OTHER GOD-SPEED."]

The experiences of the last few hours had made a great impression on me,
and, although I felt awed and somewhat shaken, my heart was light with
the gladness of one who rejoices in a reprieve. The express that I had
been so anxious to catch had long since gone on its way; still, in my
present hopeful frame of mind, that did not trouble me. I felt a
conviction that Mary was mending, that I should find her better, and,
comforted by this belief, I walked briskly on; at least, as briskly as
my clumsy shoes would allow me, but even in spite of this hindrance, it
was not long before I reached the end of the tunnel. The moonlight
streaming down upon the rails was a pleasant sight, and showed me, some
time before I reached it, that my goal was at hand. When I left the last
shadow behind me and stood out under the clear sky I drew a sigh of
intense thankfulness, drinking in the sweet fresh air.

I walked down the country road, thinking that I would rest for a few
hours at the station hotel and be ready for the first train in the
morning. But my adventures were not yet over. As I glanced at my
clothes, thinking how unlike myself I looked and felt, something on the
sleeve of my coat attracted my attention; it must be tar, which I or the
former wearer of the clothes must have rubbed off in the tunnel. But,
no. I looked again--my eyes seemed riveted to it--it was unmistakable.
There, on the coarse grey material of the coat, was a large broad-arrow.

In an instant the whole truth had flashed upon me. No need to examine
those worsted stockings and heavy shoes--no need to take off the coat
and find upon the collar the name of one of Her Majesty's prisons, and
the poor convict's number. As my eyes rested on the broad-arrow I
understood it all.

At first I was very indignant at the position I was in. I felt that a
trick had been practised upon me, and I naturally resented it. I sat
down by the roadside and tried to think. The cool air blew in my face
and refreshed me. I had no hat; the convict--I was beginning to think of
him by that n