“The clock is striking midnight.  It is dark, very dark, little keys; but perhaps you will not fail me.  Now I leave this cursed place; yes, leave it, I hope, to walk the earth again in freedom.  Blast my accusers!” whispered the excited prisoner as he softly applied the mysterious, slender-looking key to the heavy lock.  “Ha! how the lock yields to this delicate spring!  Softly! softly! or I may disturb some sleeping inmate!  God knows how many weary vigils are kept in this wretched abode.  I’ll tread this narrow corridor no more, I hope.  Heavens!  The outer bolt, too, withdraws, and God’s blue dome and bright stars are above me!  I am free from these cursed walls!  Now the gate yields, too!  I am free! free!  Thank God, free once more!”

As Emile emerged from the prison-gate, and it swung noiselessly back to its place, he gazed anxiously about, and at once descried a dark, half-bent figure of a man approaching him.  His heart trembled.

“Mars’ Emile,” said a low voice, as the unknown figure approached close to him, “Mars’ Emile Le Grande, don’t you know me?  I am here as I promised.”

Affrighted at this seeming apparition, Emile shrank back, saying, “Stand back, man or devil, whatever you may be!  Who are you?  What do you want?” he continued, as the unknown figure essayed to lay hold of his arm.

“Hush! hush!  We may be overheard.  Don’t be afraid.  I come to befriend you.  Mars’ Emile, don’t you know me?” said the little old man, as he pushed back the slouched hat from his face, and peered into Emile’s eyes.  “Don’t you know old Peter Martinet?”

“What! old Uncle Peter, who carried the ‘Courier’ so long ago?” said Emile in astonishment.

“De very same, Mars’ Emile.  I’se de same old darkey now dat I was years ago, only not quite so spry.  You see I’se crippled wid de rheumatiz a little.  But come along wid me, man; don’t wait here any longer; we may be found out.”

“Is my wife with you?” whispered Emile eagerly.

“La, no, man; your wife knows nuffin ob dis plot.  We must hurry.”

And can I not see her, Peter?”

“No, man, if you wish to escape de bloodhounds dat are on your track.  You had better be quick, too.”

“I must see my wife.”

“Be brave, man; be brave.  Why did you leave de jail, if you didn’t wish to ’scape?  Come along faster.”

“But where are you going?” replied Emile, as he mechanically followed the hobbling guide.

“Here, this way, follow me.  I’ll tell you by’mby;” and then halting within the shadow of a protecting building, the old man stooped to rub the afflicted limbs, and said softly, “You see, Mars’ Emile, I’se kept my eye on you, eber since dey brought you here to jail.  I’se nebber left the Queen City, and nebber will, an’ I ’tended all de w’ile, dat you should git away, if you wanted to.  I’se made plan after plan, and dey would not work, but at last I got help from inside, an’ den I got