In the garden the boughs of a dilapidated old ash tree were soughing in the wind above my head, whilst from the top of the boundary wall the yarring and yowling of beasts of the feline species grated unpleasantly on my ear.  I could not see my hand before my eyes, and had just stretched it out in order to guide my footsteps when it was seized with a kindly yet firm pressure, whilst a voice murmured softly: 

“Hush!”

“Who is it?” I whispered in response.

“It is I—­Sarah!” the voice replied.  “Everything is all right, but Leah is unsuspecting.  I am sure that if she suspected anything she would not set foot outside the door.”

“What shall we do?” I asked.

“Wait here a moment quietly,” Sarah rejoined, speaking in a rapid whisper, “under cover of this wall.  Within the next few minutes Leah will come out of the house.  I have left my knitting upon a garden chair, and I will ask her to run out and fetch it.  That will be your opportunity.  The chair is in the angle of the wall, there,” she added, pointing to her right, “not three paces from where you are standing now.  Leah has a white dress on.  She will have to stoop in order to pick up the knitting.  I have taken the precaution to entangle the wool in the leg of the chair, so she will be some few seconds entirely at your mercy.  Have you a shawl?”

I had, of course, provided myself with one.  A shawl is always a necessary adjunct to such adventures.  Breathlessly, silently, I intimated to my kind accomplice that I would obey her behests and that I was prepared for every eventuality.  The next moment her hold upon my hand relaxed, she gave another quickly-whispered “Hush!” and disappeared into the night.

For a second or two after that my ear caught the soft sound of her retreating footsteps, then nothing more.  To say that I felt anxious and ill at ease was but to put it mildly.  I was face to face with an adventure which might cost me at least five years’ acute discomfort in New Caledonia, but which might also bring me as rich a reward as could befall any man of modest ambitions:  a lovely wife and a comfortable fortune.  My whole life seemed to be hanging on a thread, and my overwrought senses seemed almost to catch the sound of the spinning-wheel of Fate weaving the web of my destiny.

A moment or two later I again caught the distinct sound of a gentle footfall upon the soft earth.  My eyes by now were somewhat accustomed to the gloom.  It was very dark, you understand; but through the darkness I saw something white moving slowly toward me.  Then my heart thumped more furiously than ever before.  I dared not breathe.  I saw the lovely Leah approaching, or, rather, I felt her approach, for it was too dark to see.  She moved in the direction which Sarah had indicated to me as being the place where stood the garden chair with the knitting upon it.  I grasped the shawl.  I was ready.

Another few seconds of agonising suspense went by.  The fair Leah had ceased to move.  Undoubtedly she was engaged in disentangling the wool from the leg of the chair.  That was my opportunity.  More stealthy than any cat, I tiptoed toward the chair—­and, indeed, at that moment I blessed the sudden yowl set up by some feline in its wrath which rent the still night air and effectually drowned any sound which I might make.