Between the hay and the arch a hand flickered an instant, then vanished.
Tignonville stared.

At first he thought his eyes had tricked him.

Then the hand appeared again, and this time it conveyed an unmistakable invitation.

It is not from the unknown or the hidden that the fugitive has aught to fear, and Tignonville, after casting a glance down the lane--which revealed a single man standing with his face the other way--slipped across and pushed between the hay and the wall.

He coughed.
A voice whispered to him to climb up; a friendly hand clutched him in the act, and aided him.