For as soon as we set foot inside the passage we found that there was another door defying us. It seemed to lead into a room upon our left. Rudd called one of the workmen in to consult with him. They sounded the door, they sounded the wall, and concluded that the shortest way into the room was through the wall. So soon the house was being knocked to pieces before our eyes. There was sheet iron on the other side that wall. But they were through it in what seemed no time. And there was a great hole, large enough to admit of the passage of a man.
And on the other side of this hole stood Susie.
She stared at us, and we stared at her, neither understanding who the other was. But when I did understand I felt as if my legs were giving way. And something inside me set up a clamour which was deafening. And when she saw it was me she called out:
“Max!”
She was through that wall like a flash of lightning. I had her in my arms almost before I knew it.
“Susie!” I said. “My sweet!”
I could tell by the way of her that she knew more about wives than she did when I saw her last. And that she had grown reconciled to the idea of being one. And perhaps a bit more than reconciled. The fates be thanked.
Miss Blyth was in the room with her. Alive and sound, and, indeed, unhurt. They had been frightened out of their wits when they heard us, and at the noise we made, thinking they were going to be murdered, at the least.
“Where’s your father?” I asked.
“When he brought her in,” she answered—meaning Miss Blyth—“he went out, shutting the door behind him, taking the key. He left us prisoners. We’ve been prisoners ever since. We’ve heard and seen
