The latter
gave her a quick, cautious salute and hurried back toward the gaol.
The veiled young woman, very nervous and strangely agitated, made her
way back to the spot where the horses were standing. Making her way
through the cluster of small tables which lined the inner side of the
sidewalk, she found one unoccupied at the extreme end, a position which
commanded a view of the street down which she had just come.
Half an hour passed. Midnight revellers at the surrounding tables began
to take notice of this tall, elegant, nervous young woman with the
veiled face. It was plain to all of them that she was expecting someone;
naturally it would be a man, therefore a lover. Her nervousness grew as
the minutes lengthened into the hour. A clock in a tower near by struck
one. She was now staring with wide, eager eyes down the street, alertly
watching the approach of anyone who came from that direction. Twice she
half arose and started forward with a quick sigh of relief, only to sink
back again dejectedly upon discovering that she had been mistaken in the
identity of a newcomer.
Half-past one, then two o'clock. The merry-makers were thinning out; she
was quite alone at her end of the place. By this time a close observer
might have noticed that she was trembling violently; there was an air of
abject fear and despair in her manner.
Why did he not come? What had happened? Had the plot failed? Was he even
now lying wounded unto death as the result of his effort to escape
captivity? A hundred horrid thoughts raced through her throbbing,
overwrought brain.
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