He was caked with dried muck. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. She pushed. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. “To-night we are as we have always been. The decision had been sound. Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described.
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