The bolt of the door flew back; the door opened of itself again.

The cat stalked on before down the dark staircase, and a faint gleam from above showed them the way down.

The outer door sprang open before and closed behind them, and the next minute Cuthbert was hurrying his companion along the dark street, pulling her into the shadow of a doorway if any sounds announced the approach of any of the tavern roisterers, and so protecting her from any danger or peril till they stood at last in safety beneath Martin Holt's roof, and looked wonderingly into each other's eyes, as if questioning whether it had not all been part and parcel of a dream.
They had not been long gone; a bare hour had elapsed since they had stolen out into the darkness together.

There was no fear that any other member of Martin Holt's household would be back for a considerable time.

The two conspirators bent over the scrap of parchment they placed between them on the table, and pored earnestly over it together.
"What does it mean, Cuthbert?
what can it mean?
Canst read the words aright ?" "Ay, it is well writ.