Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal.
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