The door swings open.

Instead of a man, they see a woman of Malta.  Upon her arm hangs a lantern.  She shades her eyes from its glare and looks upon the prisoners.

To say Doctor Chicago is surprised would be putting it feebly; he is amazed at the sight of a woman jailer.

Now she fastens her eyes on his face, he can almost feel her gaze.  She advances a step or two.

“Chicago?” she says, inquiringly.

John hardly knows what she means.

“Answer her,” says Sharpe, quickly; “she wants to know if you are from Chicago.”

“Yes,” returns Craig, nodding.

“Name?”

“John Craig, M.D.”

“It is good.  Come.”

He is thrilled with a new hope.  Can this mean escape? or does the clever Pauline play a new game with them?

“Shall we go, Sharpe?” he asks, in a whisper.

“Go—­well, I reckon we’d be fools to let such a chance as this slip,” returns the little man, instantly.

So they proceed to follow their strange guide, out of the dungeon door and along the narrow passage after her.

Again John suspects, and bends his head close to that of his comrade.

“Professor.”

“Well, I’m wide awake.  What is it you want?” returns the other.

“Do you really mean to trust her?”

“She seems friendly enough.  We’re out of that abominable place—­bah!  I’d as soon be shut up in the Calcutta Black Hole as there.”

“But, Pauline—­”

“Well, what of her?”

“She is a wonderfully shrewd girl, and this may only be one of her tricks.”

“I don’t believe it; she had us safe enough before.  Besides, John, my dear boy, I seem to have discovered something that has not yet made itself apparent to you.”

“Then tell me.”

“You noticed how she stared at you and asked your name; why, it didn’t matter if a dozen Philander Sharpe were near by.”

“Yes, but get down to facts.”

“She is repaying her debt.”

“To me—­she owes me nothing, man.”

“You mistake.  As you walk, doctor, don’t you feel your left arm twinge some?”

“Hang it, yes; but what’s that got to do with this Maltese woman with the lantern?”

“Softly—­speak in whispers if you don’t want to arouse the house.  See, she turns and raises her forefinger warningly.  Do you mean to say you don’t remember her, John?”

“Her face is familiar, but—­”

He hesitates, and faces the professor.

“I see, you’ve got it.  You saved her child from the death fangs of the mad dog, and a kind Heaven has placed her in a position to return the favor, which she would do if the most terrible fate hung over her head.”

“It seems incredible,” mutters the doctor.

Nevertheless it is true; the one chance in ten thousand sometimes comes to pass.

Already has his afternoon’s adventure borne fruit in more ways than one; first it restored him to his former place in the esteem of Lady Ruth, which his refusal to do her foolish errand had lost him, and now it works greater wonders, snatching him from the baleful power of the actress who, unable to rule, would ruin.