As Roy went away, the guard was being changed, and the place rang with the tramp of men, the officer on duty visiting the different posts and examining everything in the keenest way.

"Ah, they're doing it right enough, Master Roy," said Ben; and the lad started, for he had not heard the old sergeant's approach. "Taking a lesson?"

"I was watching them, Ben."

"Ah, and if they warn't enemies, and taken our place, I'd say the general was a thorough good soldier, and knew what he was about."

"You do think that, then?" said Roy, who was glad to hear his own ideas endorsed.

"Course I do, sir. I growled and grumbled because I'm sore; but it does one's heart good to see the fine discipline, and the way in which they work our guns. He didn't seem very clever at managing his horse, but I s'pose he was right, for sorry am I to say it, he's made the castle twice as strong as it was, and only by having his men in such order."

"Yes; everything goes like clockwork, Ben," said Roy, sadly.

"Better, sir; clocks get out of order; garrison like this don't. A man or two may go wrong, but there is always more to take their places. We did our best, and was very proud of it, sir; but it's one thing to have three trained soldiers for your garrison and to make it stronger out of such men as you can get together, and another thing to march in as many as you can make room for, and all well-drilled. There, it's of no use to grumble, sir; we did wonders.—So the general won't let you go and see the fox's hole?"

"Yes, he will, Ben. I have the pass here to present to the officers on duty."

"Why didn't you say so before?" cried Ben, sharply. "Come along, then, sir. I wouldn't go and say anything to them yonder, because they might feel a bit jealous."

Roy nodded, and followed by the old sergeant he walked straight to the guard-room, presented his paper, feeling all the while how strange it was to have to ask permission in his own old home. But he had no time for thought. The officer promptly called out a sergeant, and selected four men, and with them for guard, Roy and Ben led across the court to the entrance of the north-west tower.

Roy felt eager and yet depressed as they passed in, the sergeant leading and going up the spiral stairs to Master Pawson's old room, which was partly dismantled now, and the furniture left just sufficient to provide seats and a table for a dozen men who used it as a second guard-room.

"You don't know the way out and in by this passage, then, sir?" the sergeant said.

"No," replied Roy, who was examining the walls. "I have no idea where it is. Surely it can't be here?"

"Take a look round, sir; perhaps you'll make it out."

Roy did look round—an easy thing to do in a round chamber—but the door, the one large cupboard, the locker in the window, and a broad oaken panel over the mantelpiece were examined and in vain. The last took his attention the most, looking as if it might be a low door-way, and sounding hollow; but he could make nothing of it, and he fell to examining the wainscot in other parts and the floor boards.

"Better give it up, sir," said the sergeant, smiling. "I don't suppose any one would find it out unless it was by accident. Shall I show you now?"

"No," said Roy, who was on his mettle; and he examined the whole place again, beginning with the locker in the window, opening an oaken box-like contrivance in which lay a few of the soldiers' cloaks for which there was no room on the nails and hooks lately driven into the wall.

But after a quarter of an hour's keen search, Roy gave it up.

"I am wasting time," he said.

"Yes, sir," said the sergeant; "but, as children say at play, you were burning more than once."

Roy felt disposed to renew his quest, but he refrained, and the sergeant went to the casement window, and as Roy watched him, opened it till it stood at a certain angle, which allowed him to thrust down a pin and secure it—a simple enough thing to do, and apparently to keep the wind from blowing it to and fro.

"That unlocks the trap-door, sir," said the man. "If you open it more or less, it doesn't act. Look here."

He opened the lid of the locker, and turned a catch over it to keep it from shutting down again, then threw out the cloaks.

"Now pull up that end, sir."

Roy took hold of the panelled oaken side of the locker on his left, and to his astonishment the end of the coffer-like affair glided easily up, bringing with it one end of the oaken bottom; while the other end, turning upon a pivot on the middle, went down, laying open a square shaft going at a slope apparently into the thickness of the wall.

Roy uttered an ejaculation of wonder, while the sergeant struck a light, lit a lantern, got feet first into the locker, and let himself slide; and they saw him descend a dozen feet at an easy slope, stand upright, and hold the light for them to follow and stand by him in a narrow passage with an arched roof.

"Easy enough, when you know how," said the man.

"Ay, easy enough, when you know how," growled Ben, while Roy examined a short, stout ladder hanging from a couple of hooks by the arched ceiling.

"For going back?" he said.

"Yes, sir," was the reply, as the sergeant moved forward a few steps to allow his men to follow, which they did as if quite accustomed to the task.

The narrow passage ended at the top of a spiral staircase just wide enough to allow a man to pass along, and down this he went with a light, the others following, till they had descended to a great depth.

"Hundred steps," growled Ben, as they stood now in a square crypt-like chamber, with a pointed archway in the centre of the wall at one end.

"There you are, sir," said the sergeant, holding up the lantern, "cut right through the stone. It's as dry as tinder, though it does go straight under the moat. Isn't it strange that you didn't know of this?"

"Strange!" cried Ben, taking the answer out of his young master's lips; "why, I didn't know anything about it myself. I mean, where it was."

Roy was silent, for he was thinking of how easily the passage could have been blocked, or a few men have held it against a host.

"Want to go any farther, sir?" asked the sergeant.

"Farther? Yes!" cried Roy, excitedly. "I want to go right to the end."

"Long way, sir, and it's all alike. It comes out in the old ruined place at the top of that little hill."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Roy. "Lead on, please."

The sergeant went forward with the light, and Roy followed, whispering to his companion as they went along.

"Oh, Ben, if we had only found it out!"

"Ay, sir. If we had only found it out; but it wanted a man like Master Pawson."

"Why, Ben," cried Roy, who had a flash of inspiration; "he must have found out about it in one of those old books from the library, one of those which tell about the building of the castle."

"Why, o' course, sir!" growled Ben; "and you, with all those books to look at when you liked, and not find it out yourself."

"And I know the very book," cried Roy, "and have looked at the pictures in it scores of times. But, I remember now, I have not seen it since that wretch has been here."

They had to increase their pace, for the sergeant was striding along over the fairly level floor, which had doubtless been lately cleared, for the lantern showed where portions of the arched roof had shaled off, though much of it was in almost the same condition as when it was laboriously chipped away with the mason's hammers, whose marks were plainly enough to be seen.

"Seen one bit, we've seen all, Master Roy," said Ben at last in a disgusted tone; "but it don't want a trained soldier to take a castle if he's got a way in, made ready for him like this."

But they proceeded, and went right to the end, which was carefully masked in the ruin of the old chapel. But some time before they reached the other opening they were challenged, and Roy felt no surprise on finding a strong body of horse bivouacked in the ancient ruin.

On the way back to the castle Roy gleaned a few facts from the sergeant, which only, however, endorsed those already gathered,—to wit, that the ex-secretary had been holding communications with the enemy for some time before they came to terms, visiting the camp again and again at night, and eluding the vigilance of those who tried to follow him, dodging, as he always did, and then doubling back and reaching the ruins where they were not watched. It was not until General Hepburn had realised that it would be a very long and tedious task to reduce the castle, and only to be achieved at the cost of much bloodshed, that he, after communication with headquarters, came to Pawson's terms, and then the result was immediate.

Roy's first step on returning was to seek Lady Royland and tell her of his visit, at the same time asking her opinion about the book, which she remembered at once.

"Yes," she said, at last; "if ever we find that book again, we shall read the story of our ruin there."



CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

ROY HEARS THE SIMPLE TRUTH.

A month had passed, and the prisoners knew nothing of what was going on in the outer world. Now and then rumours floated to Roy's ears through different channels of how matters progressed in the country, but they were rumours which, Lady Royland pointed out, could not be trustworthy. One day it would be that the king was carrying everything before him, and that the rebellion was nearly stamped out; while on another they heard that the Parliamentarians held the whole country, and the king hardly had a follower left.

The moat embraced the world of the prisoners during their captivity, and they knew what went on within its enclosure,—little else.

"We must wait patiently, Roy," said Lady Royland.

"Yes, mother," he replied, with a smile full of annoyance; "we must wait, but I can't do it patiently. In the old days I could fish and climb after the jackdaws' nests, and make excursions, and read; but I can't do any of those things now. I only seem able to think about escaping."

"Well, my boy," said Lady Royland, sadly—one day when Roy said this for perhaps the twentieth time, and she looked at him with a pained expression in her eyes—"I know how hard it must be for a young bird to beat its wings, shut in by a cage. Escape, then. You may be able to find your father. But at the least you will be free."

Roy thought of Pawson's words about his father's death, but mentally declared it was a lie like the other assertion, and burst out into a mocking laugh, which made his mother look at him wonderingly.

"Escape?" he said. "I say, mother, do you know I've often thought how easily I could get on to the ramparts, slide down a rope, and swim across the moat."

"Yes, I am sure you could," she said, eagerly, but with the pain in her eyes growing plainer. "Well, it would be bitter for me to part with you, but go."

Roy laughed outright once more.

"Why, you dear, darling, silly old mother!" he cried, flinging his arms about her neck, and kissing her; "just as if I could go away and leave you here. I should look a nice young cavalier when I met my father— shouldn't I?—and he asked where I had left you. No! I'm only grumbling like old Ben does about being shut up, though General Hepburn does treat us very well."

"Yes; no gentleman could behave to us with more consideration, my boy."

"But why doesn't father or the king, or some one of his officers, come and attack this place? All this time gone by, and the general here seems to hold the country for miles round, and all the gentry are friendly to him. Do you know Parson Meldew was here yesterday to see the beast?"

Lady Royland looked at him wonderingly.

"Well, I can't help calling him that. He is a beast, and he lives in a den. No one seems to associate with him. I believe he hates the general, but the general told me one day that Pawson was not good enough to hate."

"Don't mention his name in my presence," said Lady Royland, sternly.

The conversation came to an end, Roy walking off into the court-yard, a garden no longer, to see a squadron of horse drawn up before starting upon some reconnoissance.

They rode out to the sound of the trumpet; and as the horses' hoofs echoed on the lowered bridge, and mingled with their snorting and the jingle of the accoutrements, Roy felt his heart burn within him, and the longing to be free grew almost unbearable.

As the drawbridge was raised again, a grunt behind him made the boy turn sharply, to face the old sergeant, who had come up, his step unheard amidst the tramping of the horses as they passed over the planks.

"Sets one longing, sir, don't it?" said Ben.

"Ay, it does," said Roy, sighing.

"'Tick'larly at your age, sir. Why, I almost wish my wound hadn't got well. It did give me something to think about. If I go on with nothing to do much longer, they'll have to dig a hole to bury me."

"Nonsense, Ben!"

"No, it aren't nonsense, sir; for you see I always was a busy man. Now there's no armour to polish, no guns to look after, no powder-magazine to work at, and no one to drill. I'm just getting rusty, right through to the heart."

"But you've been weak and ill, Ben, and a rest does you good."

"No, it don't, sir. Does t'others good; and thanks to my lady and the doctor, every one's got well 'cept Sam Donny, whose leg is reg'lar twissen up like, and as if it would never come straight again. Seems queer, too, as a wound uppards should affect him so downards."

"Oh, he'll be right when the war's over."

"When it's over, sir? But when will that be?"

"Ah! I don't know, Ben," said Roy, with a sigh. "But there, don't fret. Take it easy for a bit, and grow strong."

"I am strong, sir. Strong as a horse—but do I look like the sort of man to take it easy? I've sat on that bench in the sun warming one side, and turning and warming the other side, till I've felt as if I hated myself. It aren't as if I could read. Begin to wish I could now, not as I ever knowed much good come out o' books."

"Why, Ben!"

"Ah, you may say 'Why, Ben!' sir, but look what books'll bring a man to! Look at that there Fiddler Pawson. Shuts hisself up even now, doing nothing but read, and only comes out o' nights, and goes prowling round the ramparts like an old black tom-cat. You can often hear the sentries challenging him."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Roy. "I've heard them challenge some one when I've been watching the stars."

"What business have you watching the stars o' nights, sir?" said Ben, sourly.

"Can't always sleep, Ben, for thinking."

"Humph!" growled the man. "Howsoever, sir, I do live in hopes."

"Yes; so do I."

"Ah, not same as me, sir. I lives in hopes o' one o' the sentries making a mistake some night."

"And shooting him, Ben?"

The sergeant winked, nodded, and rubbed his hands.

"Only wish they'd put me on duty, sir."

"You wouldn't shoot him, Ben, if they did."

"Then I'd save the powder and bullet, sir, and pitch him into the moat, same as the enemy did a lot of our chaps—all them as didn't jump—but they all got safe over, I suppose."

Roy began to walk up and down with his companion, passing the other prisoners from time to time on the wide bench in the corner; while old Jenk sat on the mossy stone steps at the foot of the sun-dial in the middle of the court, one arm nursing his sword upon his knees, the other embracing the lichen-covered pedestal against which he rested his head— no bad representation of old Father Time taking a nap.

"Wish I could sleep like he does," growled Ben. "Nothing to do. Won't let me help any way. Tried to have a go in the armoury, but that sergeant as went through the rat's hole with us grinned at me and turned me out. Pah! I hate him! He's reg'lar took my job out o' my hands."

"Patience, patience, Ben," said Roy.

"Don't believe there's any o' that stuff left in the castle, Master Roy. What do you think they're doing?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Got big stones and mortar down in the hole in three places, ready to build it up. Done it by now, perhaps."

"How do you know?"

"Sergeant told me. Grinned at me and said they didn't mean to have any one go out that way, nor yet come in at twelve o' clock at night."

"Indeed!" said Roy, to whom this news was troublous, interfering as it did with sundry misty notions in which he had indulged about retaking the castle, or all making their escape.

"Yes, sir; that general aren't a bit of a fool. Wouldn't be at all a bad officer, if he was on the right side. That other chap wouldn't be a bad sort o' sergeant either, if he knowed his duty to his king and country. But there's going to be a fight some day 'twix' him and me."

"Nonsense! While we are prisoners we must behave ourselves, Ben."

"Oh, must we, sir? What call's he got to get grinning at me? I'll make him grin the wrong side of his mouth if he don't look out."

"Yes; you are getting rusty, Ben," said Roy, merrily.

"Then why don't you make some plan, sir?" whispered the old sergeant in an earnest whisper. "Let's make a bold stroke for it, and retake the castle. Think of what your father would say if you did. Why, if the king was to hear of it, he'd be that pleased, he'd send for you to the palace and make a knight of you at once."

"Poor king!" said Roy, sadly. "Perhaps by this time he has no palace to call his own."

"And he won't have, unless some of us shows we've got the right stuff left in us."

At that moment they were passing the sun-dial, and old Jenk started into wakefulness, rose, shaded his eyes, and stared at Roy.

"That you, sir?"

"Yes, Jenk."

"So it be. How are you, Master Roy—how are you? I've been thinking a deal about you, sir. Don't you be downhearted; just wait a bit, and you'll see."

"See—see what, Jenk?"

The old man shook his head and smiled in a cunning fashion.

"You wait, sir, and you'll see," he said; and he sank down again, laid his head against the pedestal, and went off fast asleep.

"Yes, Master Roy, you'll see, and before many months have gone by," said Ben, solemnly. "Poor old Jenk! He's been a fine old soldier, and a true follower of the house of Royland."

"He has, Ben."

"And he's going to be the first prisoner set free."

He gave Roy a meaning look, and they separated, the lad to pass the other prisoners on the bench, and return their salutes as he went on to the private apartments and made his way to his own room, to sit down by the open window to try to think out some way of ending their captivity by turning the tables on the enemy.

The day was warm, the thinking hard, and at last his brain refused to work any longer at the task of trying to do an impossible thing, the result being that Roy suddenly opened his eyes after dreaming that some people were talking angrily in his room while he slept.

But as he lay back, staring, and seeing that the room was empty, a familiar and very stern voice came in through the window with these words, uttered in a perfectly unimpassioned voice, but one which suggested that against it there was no appeal:

"I have listened to all you had to say, Master Pawson, and all your complaints. Now, hear me: and you had better take my advice, with which I shall conclude. In the first place, in accordance with my instructions, I concluded that iniquitous bargain with you."

"Iniquitous, sir?" cried Pawson, in his highly-pitched voice, which now sounded quite a squeak.

"Yes, iniquitous. What else do you call it to sell your honour for the sake of gain? Iniquitous, treacherous; it is all that, but war made it a stern necessity that we should listen to your proposals. You kept to your terms; the new government will keep to its bargain. You will retain the castle and estate, but there was no question of time. I shall hold this place as a centre as long as we find it necessary. You can stay here or go till we have left. If you stay, take the advice I gave you. Go to your room, and stay there always, save when, like some unclean beast of prey, you come out to prowl at night. For, though your life is safe, I tell you that there is not a soldier in my force who does not look upon you with contempt. In future, sir, if you wish to make any communication to me, be good enough to write."

Roy would have shrunk away, so as not to listen, but these words filled the room in the silence of that afternoon, and the general's retiring steps were plainly heard, followed by a low hissing sound, as of some one expiring his pent-up breath.

Then a soft, cat-like step was heard, and Roy said to himself—

"It seems as if Master Pawson's punishment has begun."



CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

THE USE OF A POWDER-MAGAZINE.

Roy found, as the time glided on in his monotonous life, that Ben's news was correct. General Hepburn was determined not to be surprised by any party of the Royalists who had learned from the fugitives that such a passage existed; and to make assurance doubly sure, he was about to build up the tunnel in three different places; but on second thoughts he did otherwise, setting his men to work to carry kegs of powder to some distance from the castle, placing them in a suitable position in the tunnel, and then, after making a fuse of several yards in length, having a tremendously strong wall built up across the place, leaving a hole just big enough for the fuse to pass through.

This was all done very quietly, Roy supposing that the men were merely building. Then a few days were allowed to pass for the cement to settle and harden before the fuse was fired.

The fact was known one morning at breakfast, when a terrific roar made Roy rush from the table and up to the ramparts, in full expectation of seeing a battery of guns just opening fire on the castle.

"Yes, it is," he panted to himself as he looked over towards the chapel hill, and saw the smoke rising from a mound of earth.

But in a few minutes he knew the truth from one of the officers who challenged him for coming there, and went back to breakfast with his appetite gone, for he felt that one of the means of escape was completely sealed up, and the night would never come when he could, with the help of his friends, lead Lady Royland through the passage on their way to liberty.

"And a good thing, too," he said bitterly to the old sergeant, for the grapes seemed to be very sour. "I don't want to escape. I wouldn't go if the way were open, and I'm sure my mother would not leave our own old home. Why, it would be like giving it all to Pawson, and I'll die before he shall have it in peace."

"'Ray, 'ray, 'ray, 'ray!" cried Ben, softly. "Can't shout it out as I should like to, Master Roy. That's the right sperit, sir. We won't never give up, come what may."

Old Jenk passed them just then, muttering to himself as he tottered by, and paying no heed when spoken to, while the various sentries treated him as a kind of amiable old madman, who was licenced to go about as he pleased, being perfectly harmless.

Another day passed, and Roy was walking up and down in his favourite part of the court-yard thinking of when he should ask General Hepburn for a written permission to go about on the ramparts, for the officer had spoken rather sharply to him after he had run up on the occasion of the blowing up of the tunnel.

But he did not ask the general, for the events that followed came one upon another so quickly that the matter passed out of his mind.

For all at once, just as Ben was coming slowly up to him, one of the sentinels shouted to the officer of the guard below, and word was passed to the general that a dragoon was galloping up along the road as fast as he could hurry his horse along.

A few minutes later, in the midst of a little excitement, the man drew rein at the outer gate-way, held up a packet in answer to a challenge, and as soon as the drawbridge was lowered, he dismounted and walked his horse over, for the poor beast was terribly distressed, and the rider appeared exhausted.

Roy stood eagerly watching, for this evidently meant something important, otherwise the messenger would not have nearly ridden his horse to death, the poor beast standing drooping in the middle of the court-yard; while the man, whose face was blackened with dust and sweat, and disfigured by a broad strip of plaster which extended from high up among the roots of his closely-cropped hair on the left temple down to his right eyebrow, leaned heavily on the sun-dial and asked for water.

The general read his despatch carefully twice, and then turned to the messenger to question him in a low voice, looking at him searchingly the while.

"Did General Braxley give you this despatch to bring?"

The man straightened himself up, but reeled and snatched at the sun-dial again from weakness.

"No, sir; to my comrade. We met a vedette of the enemy, and had to make a running fight for it till he went down, and I snatched up the despatch and came on."

"How far from here are the enemy?"

"About five-and-twenty miles, sir, I should say."

"In what direction?"

"Towards Exeter, sir. I did hear say that the king was with them."

"Hah! And how strong are they, do you suppose?"

"'Bout four hundred horsemen, I heard say, sir; but it was only what my comrade told me."

"Go into the guard-room and get some refreshment," said the general, after reading his despatch carefully again.

The man turned to go, and just then his horse fell heavily, the blood gushed from its nostrils as it gave a few convulsive struggles, and then lay dead.

The messenger went to its head, sank upon one knee, as Roy joined the group around, bent lower, kissed the poor animal's brow. Then he drew his sword, cut off a piece of its forelock, thrust it into his wallet, and amidst perfect silence, followed one of the men to the guard-room, hanging his head, while Roy longed to go and shake him by the hand.

The next moment the silence was broken by the loud blare of a trumpet, and a gun was fired from the gate tower.

Roy had directly after a specimen of the general's military capacity, for by the time the court was filling with armed men, one of the sentinels on the north-west tower announced the coming of the squadron of horse that had been camping by and in the ruined chapel; while, within half an hour, the troop in the castle rode out, each bearing a foot-soldier upon the crupper of his saddle,—the squadron without waiting to take on an equal number themselves. The general meanwhile sat upon his charger conversing in a low tone with the officer he was about to leave in command.

Just then, looking very weak and ill, the messenger came hurrying out of the guard-room, putting on his steel cap.

He waited till the general approached, and Roy was near enough to hear what was now said, the man speaking in a husky voice.

"Beg pardon, general; will you give orders for me to be supplied with a fresh horse?"

"What for?" said General Hepburn, turning on him sharply.

"To go with you and join my regiment."

"No; stay here. Captain Ramsay, if there is any ruse being practised, as soon as you hear that disaster has come to nay party, place that man against the wall and have him shot."

The dragoon raised his hand to his cap in salute; and as soon as the general had ridden out, he staggered more than walked to where the dead horse lay, and took its head into his lap, to sit gazing sorrowfully into its reproachful-looking, glazing eyes.

"I'm a tough old chap, Master Roy," whispered Ben, "but my eyes are so watery I can hardly see; and if that orderly warn't an enemy, I'd just go and shake him by the fist."

Unconsciously the old sergeant had exactly expressed Roy's own feelings; but the next minute all show of weakness and sentiment had passed away. The trooper turned from the lookers-on, giving the horse's neck three or four pats, and then began to unbuckle headstall, and take off bridle and bit before unbuckling the girths, rising and taking hold of the saddle, giving it a sharp snatch to drag it free. But he had to put his heavily-booted foot against the horse's back, and tug several times before he could get the girths from beneath the heavy weight.

Then, throwing the saddle across his arm, and picking up the bridle, he turned to the nearest sentinel, asked a question, had the low archway pointed out which led into the basement used for stabling, and disappeared down the slope.

"Oh, my lad, my lad," said Ben, softly; "what a chance if we'd got anything ready!"

"What—to surprise?" said Roy, as he watched the portcullis re-descending, and saw the drawbridge begin to glide up directly after.

"That's it, sir. They're as weak as weak here now, with all them gone, and we're nine strong men, for Sam Donny could fight in spite of his twissen foot."

"There's nothing the matter with Sam's foot, Ben; it's all sham; I've known it from the first."

"What?—So much the better, then."

"So much the worse, because we can do nothing. They are still a hundred strong."

"Nay, sir—not above eighty."

"Ten to one, Ben. I'd do anything, but we have no arms."

"Take 'em from them, sir."

"Rash folly, Ben. I'm soldier enough now to know that it would be like throwing away your lives."

"Humph!" growled Ben; and the officer now in command came up and said, firmly—

"Now, Master Royland, I am sorry to seem harsh with you, but, saving at meal-times, when I shall be glad to see you, I must ask you to keep your chamber till General Hepburn returns, and hold no communication whatever with your fellow-prisoners."

"Very well, sir," said Roy, majestically.

"And you, sergeant, go to your fellows and keep with them. You can have an hour in the court-yard every day under guard. March!"

Ben saluted and went to where the corporal, Sam Donny, and the rest were seated on the stone bench in the sun, spoke to them, and they all rose and went through the door-way close at hand; while Roy bowed to the captain stiffly and went through to the private apartments, and thence to his own room, where he shut himself in, and soon after heard a sentry placed at his door, a piece of routine that had for some time been discontinued.

"How suspicious!" muttered Roy. "But no wonder! He doesn't mean to be caught napping. More didn't I, but I was. No chance of him having the same luck."

He went to the window, and the first thing he saw was the dead horse being dragged towards the gate-way, where it was left to wait till the bridge should be lowered again.

"Poor thing! How roughly they are using it!" he thought. "Can't feel, though, now."

Then his attention was taken up by seeing old Jenk with his white hair and beard streaming, as he tottered here and there in the sunshine, looking excited and without his weapon.

"Why, they've taken the sword away from the poor old fellow," thought Roy. "How absurd! It will make him half-mad, if it hasn't done so already."

But in a few moments the old man sat down on the pedestal of the sun-dial, and his head drooped on his breast.

Beyond him, just visible at the foot of the slope and outside the stables, Roy could see the Roundhead trooper, bareheaded and stripped to his breeches and shirt, rolling up his shirt-sleeves and beginning to clean his horse's harness. But something which seemed to be more important took the boy's attention the next moment, and that was the figure of Master Pawson upon the ramparts, walking up and down in the sunshine, this being the first time he had been visible by daylight since the general's stern words.

"Taking advantage of his being away," thought Roy; and he was about to shrink back to avoid being seen, but his pride forbade that, and he leaned out and amused himself by parting the thick growth of old ivy, and thinking how easily he could get down into the court if he liked.

"And that wretch could climb up while I'm asleep and kill me if he liked," he thought, with a slight shudder, which he laughed off the next moment as folly.

Dinner was announced in due time, and he was half-disposed not to go; but he joined the officers, and obtained permission from the captain to visit his mother's room to tea.

"Oh, yes," said that officer, quietly. "I do not wish to be too hard upon you, Royland, only I cannot have you conspiring with your men to retake the castle now we seem weak."

So Roy spent a pleasant evening with his mother, and in good time returned to his own room, heard the sentry placed outside, and then sat in the summer evening, trying to see the men stationed opposite, and upon the towers, from his open window.

It was a very dark night, hot and promising a thunderstorm, the air feeling so close that, when at last Roy retired, he left the large window wide open.

"No fear of Master Pawson playing any tricks," he said to himself with a laugh as he undressed and lay down, wondering whether the general was going to attack some place, being in perfect ignorance of everything but the fact that he had gone on some expedition.

He fell asleep directly, and lay breathing hard till, in the midst of an uneasy dream, he was awakened suddenly by feeling a hand pressed upon his mouth.

Like a flash through the darkness he saw everything: Master Pawson had climbed up to his window from the court, entered silently, and was about to strangle him as he lay.

But before he could attempt to resist, a pair of warm lips were pressed upon his brow, and then glided to his ear to whisper—

"Roy, my boy, not a sound! Don't speak! It is I—your father."

The lad's breast rose as a great sob of joy struggled to his lips, while his hands seized that upon his mouth, pressed it closer, kissed the palm, and were then passed round the neck of him who knelt by his bed.

They did not stay there a moment; for one began to feel the face, and the other was passed over the head.

No moustache and pointed beard, no long flowing curls, only stubble and short hair, and a long patch of plaster extending from the hair about the left temple to the right eyebrow.

Roy's mental eyes were opened; he saw it all now. At last! His gallant father had risked his life to come to them in the disguise of a Roundhead trooper, and the general must have been sent on a fool's errand so that the castle could be captured again.

Thump, thump, thump! went Roy's heart as these thoughts rushed through his brain. Then the lips at his ear said, and it sounded strangely incongruous—almost mocking:

"Go on snoring as you were, so that the sentry at your door may hear."

Roy obeyed, and imitated the real thing as well as he could.

"Your mother? If safe and well press my hand."

The pressure was given, and the whisper went on through the snoring.

"Roy, I have come at great risk through the accident of the capture of a messenger with a despatch. The general has gone where he was desired, but we have had time to take our men in another direction. To-night two hundred Cavaliers will have ridden in as near as they dare, and then one hundred and fifty will have dismounted and marched silently under cover of the darkness opposite the gates.—Snore, boy, snore!"

Roy had ceased his hard breathing, but his heart worked harder than ever, and he snored again; while Sir Granby went on:

"Tell me how many of our men you have here; where they are; whether the guard in the gate tower can be mastered while the bridge is lowered and the portcullis raised. Tell me everything you can, with your lips to my ear. My men must be waiting by now."

Roy went on snoring, for the sound of the sentry pacing to and fro came plainly through the door. But Sir Granby took up the hard breathing, and Roy placed his lips to his father's ear and whispered—

"Nine good brave fellows, but they are in the lower hall, and sentries are placed over them.—They are all unarmed.—Guard-chamber and turret-stair are carefully guarded.—At least ten men in the portcullis-room and furnace-chamber.—Impossible to get in that way!"

Sir Granby's lips were at his son's ear directly, and he said—

"I heard a legend when I was a boy, that there was a secret way into the castle, but it made no impression, and I never recalled it till I heard that the place was taken. Don't tell me that the enemy surprised you through that?"

"Must," whispered Roy; and anticipating that his father would suggest using the same means, he continued: "Can't use it now; all blown up. Is there no other way? Can't you scale the ramparts?"

"Impossible, boy. I must leave you, then. My life will be forfeit when the colonel returns, and it is too valuable to my king, my men, to you and your mother, to be thrown away."

"But how can you escape, father?"

"By reaching the ramparts and plunging into the moat. Good-bye, boy. Tell your mother I will return soon with as great a force as I can; for this place must be retaken. There—Heaven be with you! I dare not stay, for it may be hours before I can reach the ramparts."

"But is there no other way, father? A hundred and fifty men, and no way of getting them in!"

"Unless the drawbridge can be lowered and portcullis raised—none!"

A deep silence, only broken by the pacing of the sentry outside, and Roy dreaded now lest the change of men should take place, and the door be opened to see whether the prisoner was safe. He tried all he could to think out some plan, but every one seemed mad; and it was horrible to be so near success, and yet to fail.

"It is of no use, boy; we are wasting time," said Sir Granby, as Roy clung to him. "It would be mad to try any other way, and spilling precious blood. Good-bye!"

Roy tried to say the words in return, but they would not come; and, thoroughly unnerved in his despair, he clung to his father's neck till he felt himself repelled; and then the way of escape from their dilemma came.

In one instant a flash which vividly lit up the whole chamber darted in through the open window, and a deafening roar followed.

But it was not the breaking of the storm, for the next moment they realised that the magazine below the opposite range of buildings had been blown up, and the crumbling down of masonry, and the roar and crash of falling stones, endorsed the idea.

"Hah!" cried Sir Granby, excitedly; "then there is a way!" And hardly had the words passed his lips when a distant huzzaing was heard, and without a moment's hesitation he sprang to the window and lowered himself down.



CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

HOW THE CASTLE CAME BACK TO ITS OWNER.

Shrieks and cries for help mingled with the blast of a trumpet and the trampling of feet, as Roy hurried on his clothes, his first thought being not to follow his father, but to reach his mother's room, though, in the confusion of brain from which he suffered, he felt that he could explain nothing about the cause of the explosion. All he could think was that by some means the Cavaliers must have contrived to gain access to the powder-magazine. But how?

That was a mystery.

While he hurriedly dressed, he could hear orders being given, and the guns which had been brought in and planted beneath the gate-way being dragged into the middle of the court, and planted where they would command the terrible breach in the castle defences; for, by a flickering light, which was now rising, falling, and always gathering in intensity, Roy could see that a large portion of the eastern side of the building was blown down, leaving a tremendous gap. The stabling, corridor, hospital-room, and servants' and other adjacent chambers, were gone; and as he gazed across from his open window, the light suddenly blazed up, brightly illuminating the ruin, and showing the garrison busily preparing for their defence.

It was time; for, as Roy paused for a few moments, hesitating to leave the scene which fascinated him by its weird horror, the Royalists were crossing the half-filled-in moat, scrambling, wading, helping each other, and cheering madly. There was no formation; they were forced to come on straggling as they could, but a fierce enthusiasm filled their breasts, and they literally swarmed into the ruins, and climbed here and there among the flames and smoke.

Fully expecting to be stopped, Roy opened his door; but the sentry had been summoned with those from the towers and ramparts to defend the great gap, and Roy passed on to his mother's room, entered without stopping to knock, to see her surrounded by the women-servants at the window, their faces lit up by the flames rising brighter and brighter from the ruins.

Lady Royland did not hear her son enter, but turned and caught his hands as he ran to her.

"Roy!" she cried, wildly. "What does this mean?"

"Our turn at last, mother," he said, wild with excitement. "Look,—look at them, the Royalists; they've blown down that side, and father is there with two hundred Cavaliers!"

"Roy!" she cried, hysterically.

"Yes," continued the lad, as he forced himself to the front, and gazed out; "look, mother; nothing stops them. Hurrah! More and more, and—"

The roar of one of the guns from the middle of the court drowned his words, and there was another roar, but the effect was little. The guns were discharged point-blank at the storming party climbing on the ruins; but they were scattered like skirmishers, and the gun-fire did not check them in the least. To Roy it only seemed that they dashed in more furiously, swarming, by the light of the blazing ruins, like bees; and before the guns could be reloaded, the Cavaliers were upon the defenders of the place, and a desperate hand-to-hand fight commenced.

Roy turned excitedly to his mother.

"Stop here; keep the women with you, and don't go near the window; there may be firing;" and, even as he spoke, shots began to ring out.

"Stop! Where are you going?" cried Lady Royland, clinging to him.

"To release our men, and help my father," said Roy.

Lady Royland's hands fell to her sides, and the boy darted out of the room and along the corridor, full of the idea that had flashed into his brain.

Away to the end he ran unchallenged, turned to the right, and without meeting a soul, reached the north-east tower, listening to the shouting and clashing of swords in the court as the desperate fight went on, his way lit by the glare from the flames in spite of the dense, heavy smoke and the choking fumes of exploded gunpowder which rolled along the passage.

With his heart beating wildly for fear he should be too late, Roy dashed down the spiral staircase to the basement, and the next minute he reached the door of the lower hall, which formed the men's prison-chamber.

The sentries were gone, and he thrust back the bolts and turned the ponderous key.

"Ben! Corporal! Donny! All of you—quick!"

"Ay, ay, sir. You're only just in time, for we're most smothered. What does it all mean?"

"Don't talk! Follow me—guard-room. Enemy all in the court."

He led the way back, the men literally staggering after him, half suffocated as they had been by the fumes of the powder, the explosion having been so near their prison. But they revived moment by moment in the pure air, and growing excited by the sounds that reached them from the court-yard, they followed on along the lower passages till they reached the crypt of the south-west tower, passed on to the stairway at the base of the gate tower, and ascended unchallenged to the great gate-way, where Roy dashed into the untenanted guard-room, and the men rapidly armed themselves with weapons from the racks.

"Ready?" said Roy, in a whisper.

"Yes," came in a deep, excited growl.

"Back, then," cried Roy, "and we'll attack them in the rear."

He ranged his men in the shadow, the combatants being wildly engaged amid a blaze of light, which prevented the movements of Roy's little party being seen; and he was about to lead them back through the great corridor to where they could dash out suddenly and make their diversion in the rear, when Ben suddenly laid his hand upon the boy's arm, and ran to one of the narrow slits of windows in the guard-room.

"Trampling of horses," he whispered, as he peered out, the glow upward now lighting the other side of the moat. "General's men coming back, sir. Take us up into the portcullis-room, and we must defend that and keep it and the furnace-chamber to the death. They must not come in."

Roy grasped the position, knowing well enough that as soon as the defenders knew of the return of their friends, they would admit them, and the Cavaliers would suffer defeat.

Giving the word, he dashed up the spiral followed by his men, and as they stood ready to defend the place to the last, and keep bridge and portcullis as they were, he stepped up into the window and thrust out his head, to see dimly a body of about fifty horsemen, who galloped up to the edge of the moat.

"Halt!" shouted their leader. "No good: impossible. We must ride round, dismount, and join Royland through the breach. Forward!"

"Halt!" shrieked Roy with all his force in his cry, and then in a voice he did not know as his own, he yelled out, "Royland! Royland! God save the king!"

The effect was electrical. His words were answered by a loud "hurrah!"

Roy looked back from the window-splay.

"Friends!" he panted. "Ben, up with you, and lower the bridge;" and as the old sergeant sprang to the staircase, followed by five more, the others seized the capstan-bars and began to hoist the portcullis; while, sword in hand, Roy stood on the narrow stair, determined to die sooner than an enemy should pass.

But the next minute the bridge was down, with the defenders in ignorance of what was going on; the first knowledge they had of what was to come being given by the thunder of the horses' hoofs, and a deafening cheer as the Cavaliers dashed in.

That charge decided the fight, for in less than five minutes, in spite of the officer's desperate valour, the defenders broke and fled, to take refuge in corridor and chamber, from whence they could fire upon their enemies.

But, half-mad now with excitement, and flushed by the certainty of victory, the Cavaliers, headed by Sir Granby Royland, went in pursuit, chasing the Parliamentary party through the passages, never giving them time to combine, capturing knot after knot, and forcibly driving the rest below, where, feeling that all was over, their captain ended the carnage by offering to surrender. Then the triumphant Cavaliers gathered in the court-yard, waving hat and sword in the bright light of the burning building, and raising the echoes with their shouts.

It was about this time that Roy, followed by his little party, sought out his father, to find him at last, busy, like the careful soldier he was, stationing men at the towers, and then arranging for a proper defence of the great gap in the castle side, though temporarily it was now well defended by a line of flames that no man could pass.

Roy gazed in dismay at the blackened, blood-stained man, bleeding from two fresh wounds, and was ready to wonder whether this was the gallant, handsome cavalier who had left the castle to go on the king's service so short a time before.

"Ah! my brave, true boy!" cried Sir Granby, catching him by the shoulders; "old Martlet tells me how you led them to open a way for our friends. It was the work of a good soldier, Roy. You'll be a general yet. What do you say?" he continued, with a laugh; "as I am now? There, everything is safe for the present. Where is your mother? Am I fit to see her, though?"

Roy said nothing, but clung to the hand that grasped his; and a few minutes later Sir Granby was locked in his wife's arms.

By this time a strong party had been formed to attack the flames; and as there was an abundance of water from the moat, the day broke upon the quenching of the last burst of fire, and revealed a sad scene of desolation, the side of the castle on the east being one long hollow range of burnt-out buildings, saving the hospital-room, which had escaped, with a wide gap of tottering and piled-up ruins where the magazine had exploded, hurling great masses of stone into the court-yard and the moat.

The fire mastered, Sir Granby commenced forming a rough breastwork of the stones, using for the most part all that could be dragged from the moat, the Cavaliers wading in and working like labourers to strengthen the breach, which towards evening began to look strong with the rough platforms made for the enemy's three heavy guns. The work was so far completed none too soon, for just at dusk a body of men was seen approaching in the distance, and General Hepburn soon after appeared, to find that he had been outwitted in turn, and that a long siege would be necessary before he could hope to be master of the place again.

That long siege followed; and at last, weakened by loss of men and reduced from want of food, the Cavaliers were unable to combat the terrible assault delivered by the little army that had gradually been gathered about the walls, and the castle fell once more into the hands of the Parliamentarians, who were generous enough to treat the gallant defenders with the honours they deserved.

"But they would never have taken it, Roy," said Sir Granby, "if that gap had not been blown out. I'd give something to know how it occurred. Could it have been done by that villain Pawson out of despite?"

It was long before the truth was known, when, after years of exile with his wife and son, Sir Granby Royland returned to take possession of his ruined castle and estate. For the young king had ridden into London, and his father's defenders were being made welcome to their homes.

It happened during the excavating that went on, while the masons were at work digging out and cleaning all the stones which would be available for rebuilding the shattered side, that Sir Granby wrote a letter to Captain Roy Royland, the young officer in the body-guard of his majesty, King Charles the Second. The letter was full of congratulations to the young man on his promotion, and towards the end Sir Granby said—

"I have kept your mother away from the work going on, for I have been afraid that the digging would mean the turning over of plenty of sad mementoes of that terrible time; but, strangely enough, these discoveries have been confined to two. You remember how we wondered that Master Palgrave Pawson never showed himself again, to take possession of the place he schemed to win, and how often we wondered what became of poor old Jenk. Well, in one day, Roy, the men came upon the poor old man crouched up in a corner of the vault, close to the magazine. From what we could judge, the powder must have exerted its force upward, for several of the places where the stones were cleared out were almost uninjured, and this was especially so where they found old Jenk. The poor fellow must have been striking his blow against his master's enemies, for, when the stones were removed, he lay there with a lantern and a coil of slow-match beneath, showing what his object must have been in going down to the magazine. The other discovery was that of the remains of my scoundrel of a secretary. They came upon him crushed beneath the stones which fell upon the east rampart, where, perhaps you remember, there was a little shelter for the guard. Master Pawson must have been on the ramparts that night, and perished in the explosion.

"Come home soon, Roy, my lad; we want to see you again. They ought to give you leave of absence now, and by the time you get here, I hope to have the old garden restored, and looking something like itself once more. The building will, however, take another year.

"Roy, my boy, they bury soldiers, as you know, generally where they fall; and your mother and I thought that if poor old Jenk could have chosen his resting-place, it might have been where we laid him. As you remember, the old sun-dial in the middle of the court was levelled by the explosion. It has been restored to its place, and it is beneath the stones that your grandfather's faithful old servant lies at rest.

"Ben Martlet begs me to remember him to you, and says it will do his eyes good to see you again; and your mother, who writes to you as well, says you must come now. My wounds worry me a good deal at times, and I don't feel so young as I was; but there, as your mother says, what does it matter now we can rest in peace? for we live again in another, our own son—Roy."

THE END.