There mustn't be the slightest sound made."
Cavendish thrust his head cautiously through the door, the revolver
gripped in his hand; Miss Donovan, struggling to keep her nerves
steady, touched the coat of her companion, fearful of being alone. The
passage-way was dark, except for the little bars of light streaming out
through the slits in the stone above the cell doors. These, however,
were sufficient to convince Cavendish that no guards were in the
immediate neighbourhood. He felt the grip of the girl's fingers on his
coat, and reached back to clasp her hand.
"All clear," he whispered. "Hurry, and let's get this door closed."
They slipped through, crouching in the shadow as the door shut behind
them, eagerly seeking to pierce the mystery of the gloom into which the
narrow corridor vanished. Beyond the two cells and their dim rays all
was black silence, yet both felt a strange relief at escaping from the
confines of their prison. The open passage was cool, and the fugitives
felt fresh air upon their cheeks; nowhere did any sound break the
silence.
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