She had crept along in the shadow of the wall, trailing her pole like some child, as she said to herself, playing at knight errantry. Presently she had reached the window and lifting the pole tapped on it, for how long she had not known. It had seemed an eternity, and, as she tapped, holding the pole to the full extent of her arms, for it was only just long enough, she had prayed wildly that her trick with the hyoscine had passed unnoticed. Otherwise there was nothing to be done.
And then, just as she had given up hope, she had felt the end of the stick quiver, and, looking up, had seen a hand clutch it for a moment, pull the note out of the cleft and disappear. With a sigh of relief she had thrown the pole down in the long grass beneath the wall and returned to the castle.
There she had
