At the same moment an obstacle presented itself to her mind, which Iris
had thus far failed to foresee.
Lord Harry might approach the milestone by three different ways: that
is to say--by the road from the town, or by the road from the open
country, or by way of the field and the culvert. How could she so place
herself as to be sure of warning him, before he fell into the hands of
the police? To watch the three means of approach in the obscurity of
the night, and at one and the same time, was impossible.
A man in this position, guided by reason, would in all probability have
wasted precious time in trying to arrive at the right decision. A
woman, aided by love, conquered the difficulty that confronted her in a
moment.
Iris decided on returning to the milestone, and on waiting there to be
discovered and taken prisoner by the police. Supposing Lord Harry to be
punctual to his appointment, he would hear voices and movements, as a
necessary consequence of the arrest, in time to make his escape.
Supposing him on the other hand to be late, the police would be on the
way back to the town with their prisoner: he would find no one at the
milestone, and would leave it again in safety.
She was on the point of turning, to get back to the road, when
something on the dark surface of the field, which looked like a darker
shadow, became dimly visible. In another moment it seemed to be a
shadow that moved. She ran towards it. It looked like a man as she drew
nearer. The man stopped.
"The password," he said, in tones cautiously lowered.
"Fidelity," she answered in a whisper.
It was too dark for a recognition of his features; but Iris knew him by
his tall stature--knew him by the accent in which he had asked for the
password. Erroneously judging of her, on his side, as a man, he drew
back again. Sir Giles Mountjoy was above the middle height; the
stranger in a cloak, who had whispered to him, was below it. "You are
not the person I expected to meet," he said. "Who are you?"
Her faithful heart was longing to tell him the truth. The temptation to
reveal herself, and to make the sweet confession of her happiness at
having saved him, would have overpowered her discretion, but for a
sound that was audible on the road behind them. In the deep silence of
the time and place mistake was impossible. It was the sound of
footsteps.