His earnest face was as good-natured as ever beneath the balding pate, and he betrayed not the slightest hint of his propensity for evil, nor the incongruity of us both, as we stood many streets away from the conflagration he had hastened so far to combat. I forbore from suggesting that he might find his way closer to the flames, from fear of arousing his suspicions; and endeavoured to appear as though my anxiety were active only on the crisis's behalf.

“But what do you here, Miss Austen — at such a remove from both your home and the blaze together?” he enquired, bending nearer. Did I imagine it — or did his tone bear a sharper construction?

“I began by observing the activity in some proximity,” I attempted, “but found the heat from the flames and the noise of the townsfolk to be too great; and so sought relief in this removal. I hardly know where I have got to.”

“Indeed,” Crawford said. “I think you have fetched up quite close to the Lyme gaol.” And at that, he peered over my shoulder into the yard beyond, and his eyes widened. “I see that Sidmouth's friends — if, indeed, he retains any — have profited from the confusion, to effect his escape. Mr. Dobbin must be informed!”

I turned about, and pretended to as great a surprise as Mr. Crawford, though I imagine neither of us saw anything very unexpected; and delayed only a moment to speed the gentleman on his way to the justice of the peace.

“Do you hasten, Mr. Crawford, sir, lest the villain be lost in the general alarm!” I cried, with as much fervour as my desire to be rid of the man allowed. “With such criminals about, I believe I shall make my way back to Wings cottage, and take refuge there with all my dear family, until a general order is restored. I declare, I had not an idea of such terrifying adventures — such utter disregard for propriety, or such a propensity for revolution — when I undertook to travel to Lyme. Our sojourn in this place has been one long trial of fortitude; I wonder that either you or your good sister can long sustain a residence in the place.”

“It is possible,” he replied, “that we shall seek a removal in the near future — for I may admit that Miss Crawford's views are very similar to your own, Miss Austen. But I hesitate to send you off so very alone — I fear that perhaps I should accompany you — for great are the misfortunes that might befall so gentle a nature as your own, in the general recklessness of these streets.”

“I would not delay your errand for the world!” I cried, with energy. “Only consider the consequences!”

“Indeed,” he said, in some hesitation; and I felt him to have anything but the justice's house in view. His object, rather, should be to see me safely out of the way, before proceeding himself in pursuit of Sidmouth; for Crawford's plans had been too carefully laid to be put so awry. Sidmouth must serve as scapegoat for Crawford's crimes; and if the man were lost as a result of the fire, and never appeared again, so much the better. I knew, of a sudden, what Crawford intended. He would make his way to the beach below the Grange, there to search for Sidmouth as he awaited removal by boat; his friend had no reason to suspect Crawford's motives, and did he appear in the guise of aid, should welcome him with open arms. It but remained to thrust a dagger through his heart, or turn him over to the justice, and complete his betrayal.

Sidmouth must, at all costs, be warned.

I bobbed a curtsey to Crawford, and summoned the falsest of smiles. “I shall be quite all right, I assure you,” I said, and turned away. “I should never sleep easy, Mr. Crawford, did you not hasten to Mr. Dobbin this very moment God forbid that Jane Austen should stand in justice's way!”

I RETURNED WITH HASTE TO WINGS COTTAGE, IN THE EVENT THAT Mr. Crawford followed; for I knew not how narrowly he suspected my motives, or my presence by the gaol, and I would wish to preserve the appearance of credulity in Mr. Sidmouth's guilt and an innocence of my intended plan. But I knew that Crawford should spare a very little time, and should be mounted on horseback, and must lose nothing to delay. And so I tarried only long enough to discard my cumbersome cloak and bonnet, don my stout boots, and mount the steps to Wings cottage's back garden — there to slip once more into the night. It was but a scramble up the hillside, and a furtive ducking through the yard of a neighbour, before I found my road; and in a very little while, my hand pressed to a stitch in my side, I was hastening across the exposed expanse of Broad Ledge at low tide, and down into the little cove of Charmouth beach.

THE ROYALISTS SHOULD NOT HAVE CHOSEN TO SET THE TOWN alight, and free Sidmouth from his chains, only to keep him in hiding several days — no, there was a plan behind all of this, and a purpose, and I little doubted that I should find a party upon the beach, in expectation of the arrival of a ship offshore, and a signal light that should go unremarked against the broader glare of flames to the west. That Crawford might assume as much — or look for Sidmouth to return to the Grange, and from thence make his way down the cliff side to the shingle, seemed equally likely. I had not a moment to lose.

Caution must be my guide, however; and so, as I drew shuddering breath at the eastern foot of Broad Ledge, my shins much abused by my passage and my gown spattered with sea spray, I attempted to calm my racing heart. I could not know for certain the route Mr. Crawford should take; but his own familiarity with this bit of coast, and the proximity of his fossil digs, must make him a knowing adversary. I strained to make out the beach's foreground, and observed no movement; but for safety's sake, I turned into the cliffs, and began to creep my way up the shingle.

Nothing but the soft susurration of waves upon the shore, did I have for comfort in the darkness; that, and the light patter of raindrops that had begun to fall from the clouds above — slowly at first, and then with a mounting urgency, as though the very heavens wished to save the houses and shops of Lyme, in letting fall a healing flood. My turn of mind was grown quite biblical, I reflected — a propensity for which I must blame Geoffrey Sidmouth, and the discord his circumstances had unleashed. I placed a careful foot upon a rock, in an effort to leap a small sea-pool, and found I had miscalculated; the rock o'erturned, with a sharp clink!y and I stopped in horror of discovery.

Nothing greeted my misstep, however — no leap to alarm, or sudden gunshot, or cry of warning torn from an anxious throat Had I miscalculated? Was Charmouth beach empty, and Sidmouth lost in the mouth of the Pinny, and far from the effects of Crawford and my warning together? Or — and at this, I felt a shudder of apprehension — was Crawford better apprised of his friend's whereabouts, and I had lost both Sidmouth and the opportunity to effect his salvation?

I found my fingers were trembling, and willed myself to complaisance with an effort; but it was not fear that had so unnerved me, but cold—for I was wet through to the skin from the combined effects of rain and spray, and my hair hung in wet rat-tails about my face. I looked the very part of castaway, and must find some shelter soon, or catch my death.

The cave, I thought; of course. They shall have hidden themselves in the cave, and await the signal of the ship, and be all but invisible to my wandering eye.

But did Crawford know of the cavern as well? No, I could not believe him ignorant of a feature of the landscape he had occupied so long.

The gentleman's fossil pits were before me; I longed to explore their depths, and find there a storeroom, and a quantity of silk of exceptional quality; but such things were better left to the light of day, and Mr. Dobbin's men. It remained now for me to pass the entrance in as much safety as possible, against the possibility that Mr. Crawford was even now about; and so, despite the cold, I pulled my clinging skirts into a girdle around my waist, exposing my stockinged legs to the elements, and fell to the sand on hands and knees. A stealthy crawl along the shore, with many a pause for safety, and the pits were nearly passed; when a soft nicker nearly starded me out of my wits, and I looked up to find a horse tethered to a rock not three feet from my head. — A dark horse, nearly invisible on such a night, and undoubtedly Mr. Crawford's.