"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. Don't worry about me. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. Throwing the blanket over his left arm and shouldering the iron bar, he again clambered up the chimney; regained the Red Room; hurried along the first passage; crossed the Chapel; threaded the entry to the Lower Leads; and, in less than ten minutes after quitting the Castle, had reached the northern extremity of the prison. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. She would write to Gerald. Certainly I cannot kill you if you tell me to do so.
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