At ten o’clock the next morning Mansel, Carson and I visited the Castle of Gath.

From first to last this visit had been closely rehearsed, so that even a spy in the wood would not, I think, have suspected that we were playacting.

Indeed, the play began some miles away, for we first seemed to notice the drive, as we were returning to the crossroads after a thirty-mile run. After due hesitation we determined to see whither it led.⁠ ⁠…

At the sight of the Castle we stopped, as anyone would have done, and were plainly uncertain whether or no to proceed: but, after a little discussion, I drove the car down the spur and drew up before the gateway in a perfectly natural way. Then Carson opened a door, and Mansel got out.

When he had rung, he stood waiting, with a hand on the great stone jamb, while Carson, with his hands behind him stood leaning against a wing, and I pulled out tobacco and started to fill a pipe.

I shall never forget those moments or how hard it was to keep cool. Eyes were upon us, watching each breath we drew: it was likely that we were covered and certain that we were at the mercy of those we were seeking to dupe. What was about to happen, no one could tell. For once Rose Noble was dealing, and, whatever the cards he dealt us, with those we should have to play.

The day was very fine, and a gentle breeze was blowing across the spur: except for the whisper of the engine, there was no sound: and I remember thinking how gay the greenwood looked in the brave sunshine and how black the clean-cut shadow which the battlements threw upon the turf.

After a little, Mansel rang again.

For an age we waited: then I heard a step on the pavement and the click of a lock. Then two bolts were drawn, the wicket swung open, and a woman put out her head.

“Good day,” said Mansel, using German. “What’s the name of this place?”

“The Castle of Gath, sir.”

“Who lives here?”

“No one, sir. My husband and I are the caretakers.”

“D’you know if it’s for sale?”

The woman shook her head.

“It’s not for sale, sir.”

“Which is the castle hereabouts which is for sale?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Well, there’s one somewhere,” said Mansel, “not very far from here. It belongs to an English lady, who’s out of her mind. She drives about in a car without any hat, and she has male nurses with her wherever she goes. Surely you’ve heard her spoken of?”

“No, sir,” said the woman, evenly.

“A big, closed car, painted grey. Sometimes the nurses use it when she is ill.”

The woman shook her head.

“You surprise me,” said Mansel. “It’s common talk down in Lass.”

The woman shrugged her shoulders.

“In Lass, perhaps, but we are so isolated here.”

“I wonder if your husband could help me.”

“I fear he is out, sir. But I do not think he would know.”

“Which way has he gone?” said Mansel.

The woman mentioned a hamlet four miles away.

“Perhaps I shall meet him,” said Mansel. “But ask him about this grey car when he comes in.”

“I will, sir.”

“And the castle, or house, somewhere round about here. And, if he thinks he can help me, send him to The Three Kings at Lass.”

“I will, sir.”

Mansel gave her money and returned to the car.

“Nothing doing,” he said shortly. “I was afraid it was useless. Too much off the beaten track.”

As he spoke, the wicket was shut, and the bolts were shot.

“Let’s have a look at the map,” said Mansel.

I gave him the sheet.

As I did so, the sharp clack of wood striking wood came from the door. We all looked round⁠—naturally enough. Someone had drawn the shutter which masked the grill. No doubt they would have done so in silence; but the shutter, I suppose, resisted, and then gave way with a rush.

Mansel laughed.

“Seeing us off the premises,” he said. He returned to the map. “There’s the village she spoke of: we might as well go that way.” He began to fold up the map and turned to the door. “By the way,” he said, using German, “was your husband on foot?”

As he spoke, he stepped to the grill, pocketing the map as he went.

No answer was given.

With his hand in his pocket, Mansel peered through the bars.

“I say,” he said. “My good lady.⁠ ⁠…”

No one replied.

“Come on,” said I. “She’s scared.”

Mansel took his hand from his pocket and turned away.

“That’s the worst of these people,” he said. “No sense, no observation and an inherent fear that you’re trying to do them down.”

With that, he got into the car.

Carson followed, and I drove slowly away. Not until we were five miles off did Mansel open his mouth.

“Rose Noble was there all the time. On the woman’s left. He was standing with his back to the doors, with his arms folded and a pistol in his right hand. I could see him in the glass of a lantern that hangs from the archway roof: its sides were tilted, and it couldn’t have been better placed.

“It was he that drew the shutter and stood looking out: that’s an assumption, of course; but I’m sure it’s correct. I went back in the hope that he’d stay there⁠—to laugh in my face. But he very properly didn’t. He resisted a great temptation and thereby saved his life. He wouldn’t have expected a bullet, and I don’t think I could have missed. When he saw me coming, he stooped. If he’d moved, I should have heard him: so he stood where he was and stooped. And that was why the woman never came back: he was in the way, and she couldn’t get to the grill.”

Then he turned to Carson and asked him how much he had seen.

“The walls are forty feet high, sir⁠—that is, from the gaps to the ground.”

“ ‘Embrasures’ they’re called,” said Mansel. “Yes?”

“I’m sure they’re not more, sir: they may be a foot or so less. The first windows are fourteen feet up, but they’re very heavily barred: so are the ones above. There’s no downpipe at all and no ledges that you could hold.”

“Then we must have a ladder?”

“Three, sir. Each twelve feet long. The first hooks on to the bars of a window fourteen feet up: the second on to the bars of a window above: and the third to the top of the wall.”

“Very good,” said Mansel. “Are the windows above each other?”

“No, sir. Clear by about a foot. But you go up the left of the first and the right of the one above. There’s a gap⁠—embrasure directly between the two.”

“I see,” said Mansel. “Wrought-iron, one-pole ladders, made by a village smith: ends and rungs covered with rubber tubing, so that they make no noise.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, sir.”

“You would have,” said Mansel. “Once they’re in place, it’ll be like going upstairs.”

“A rough night would help, sir.”

“We must hope for one,” said Mansel, “in two days’ time. And now, Chandos, let me drive. We must find a forge: and it’s got to be forty miles off.”

The tale we told the smith is of no consequence: the ladders were simple to make, and Mansel’s directions were clear: we were to find the work done by the evening of the following day.

Then Mansel found a rope factory and purchased a quantity of rope, after which we drove to some town, whose name I forget, where we bought what else we had need of to aid our assault. All this gear we presently hid in a dell⁠—a pretty, private place, high up in the fold of a mountain, some ten miles by road from Gath. There we could work upon it during the next two days, and thence take it direct to the Castle when the moment came.

Of foul weather we had not much hope, for the sky was clean, and Mansel’s barometer set fair: “however,” said he, “I’m not going to wait any more. At two on Friday morning we’re going over the top: even if we don’t get Adèle, we shall see the inside of that rattrap, and that’ll be devilish useful next time we come.”

How much we were nowadays watched I do not know. A spy can go out, but he is plainly useless unless he can later come in; and, in view of the Casemate business⁠—to say nothing of that of Jute⁠—I fancy Rose Noble was shy of sending his subordinates further than the edge of the wood. Had he but known, he might have spared his concern: the last thing we wished was to be led to the Castle, and Mansel had given orders that, if we saw anyone watching, we were, if we possibly could, to turn a blind eye.

Now not to look for a spy is easy enough: yet, because, perhaps, we did not want him, Fate must needs deliver one into our hands.

This was the way of it.

Both cars left Lass the next morning at eight o’clock. We were bound for the dell, where there was work to be done. Hitherto, on reaching the crossroads, the cars had gone different ways: but today both took the road out of which ran the drive which served Gath, so that, if someone was watching, he should be able for once to account for us all. Mansel was leading, and I was sitting with Hanbury, who was driving the second car.

No doubt our ways were known; but, be that as it may, when Mansel had swept past the drive, a man rose out of the bushes, stepped to the edge of the road and stood watching the car out of sight.

To ignore him was out of the question: we were less than a hundred yards off. If he ran, we were bound to give chase; and we were three to one. We might contrive to lose him, but you cannot run through a wood without declaring your line, and, unless he had a fair start, such a failure would be instantly suspected, if not by the spy, by Rose Noble, the moment he made his report.

“Take him aboard,” said George. “It’s the only way.”

That this was so became increasingly clear, for we made no manner of sound, and the man was absorbed in his view of Mansel’s car. Indeed, I had no time to think and barely enough to act. The man had no time to do either.

As we passed, I took him by the neck, and Bell leaned out behind me and dragged his legs into the car.

Not until then did I see that it was Jute.

He did not attempt to struggle; but I held him as I had seized him, till Bell had strapped together his ankles and wrists. Then we took a pistol from his pocket and put him on the floor of the car. And so we had meant to leave him, but such was his criticism of our conduct that after a little we gagged him with a handful of cotton waste.

“Understand this,” said Mansel. “It’s entirely your fault that you’re here. Chandos would have ignored you, but you didn’t give him a chance. You served your turn very well, but I finished with you at Lass. A man of your parts should have known that and have taken the greatest care to keep out of my way.”

Jute made no answer, and presently Mansel went on.

“I have no time for a prisoner, for prisoners must be watered and fed. So I’m going to do one of two things. Which I do will depend upon you. Either I return you to Rose Noble, or else I hang you by the neck.”

“Murder?” said Jute, and laughed.

“Murder,” said Mansel, beginning to fill a pipe.

I glanced round the dell.

The spot was peaceful: a gurgling brook, a little lawn and the shade of spreading trees made it seem fit for a shepherd’s piping-match. Jute and all of us looked curiously out of place.

Perhaps, because of this, I had a strange feeling that I should presently awake and find that I had been dreaming, and to this day, recalling the happenings of that sunshiny morning, I seem to be remembering some vision rather than a downright business of life and death.

Mansel was speaking.

“Now, if I return you to Rose Noble, I shall take you up to the Castle and watch you go in. That is, if it’s dark. If it’s during the day, I shall watch from the wood. You see, I don’t want to be seen.”

Jute’s face was a study.

“Now, in view of what Rose Noble said when you reported, after you had ‘led me to Lass’ ”⁠—I saw Jute start⁠—“I imagine your next meeting will be even less cordial⁠—unless you return precisely when you are expected, and say nothing of having met me. I mean, he might easily argue that you had ‘led me to’ Gath.”

His eyes upon Mansel’s face, Jute was plainly thinking extremely hard.

Mansel continued slowly, pressing his tobacco home.

“I can’t return you today, because I’ve too much to do. In fact⁠—”

“See here,” said Jute. “You can make it tomorrow night. Do that, and I haven’t seen you since you went by in the car.”

“Don’t try to bluff,” said Mansel. “It’s only wasting my time. You haven’t a card. You had quite a good one about five seconds ago: but I’ve just drawn that. You see, I wanted to know whether Rose Noble would worry if you didn’t come in tonight.”

I watched the blood come into the other’s face.

Mansel continued in the same even tone.

“I tell you this to show you that it’s no good playing with me. Bear that in mind. And now to business.”

I cannot describe the coldness with which Mansel spoke: there was no insolence in his speech, only an iron contempt, which must, I think, have entered into the other’s soul.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, and I’ll allow you one lie: if you tell two lies, I shall hang you from a branch of that oak.”

“And you talk about bluff,” sneered Jute.

“It’s not bluff,” said Mansel. “I’ve got the gloves right off. Two lies, and you’re for the high jump, as sure as I’m sitting still. And now we’ll begin. Assume you’re on the ramparts above the gateway. How would you go from there to where Mrs. Pleydell lies?”

Jute gave a short laugh.

“I thought,” he said, “you’d finished with me at Lass.”

“So I had,” said Mansel, bringing a match to his pipe.

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t care what it looks like,” said Mansel. “But I think you may as well know that I’m pressed for time: and, if you elect to be hanged, I shall have less still, because it’ll take two hours to dig you a grave.”

“Rake it out,” said Jute sharply. “I know your shape. You can wear a gun on your back side, but it’ll never fit. You’re out of your depth, Mansel: and, if you take my advice, you’ll kick for the shore. Your job’s to pay and be damned. We’ve got your girl, and⁠—”

“Carson,” said Mansel, “get a rope on that bough. Timber hitch on the wood, slip knot the other end.”

For a moment the servants spoke together. Then Bell was on Rowley’s shoulders and up in the tree, and Carson was down in a gully, with a knife in his hand. The next minute he reappeared, with a coil of rope on his arm.⁠ ⁠…

I knew that Mansel was bluffing, for he was not a hard man. He would have killed Rose Noble, for he was the head of the corner, and, with his death, the conspiracy would have gone. He would have killed anyone whose death would materially help him to reach Adèle. But a spy that, when taken, refused to open his mouth, was as safe in Mansel’s hands as a priest on his altar steps. I knew he would never hang Jute, though God knows he had just cause. Mansel was bluffing: and I was greatly afraid that the fellow would call his bluff.

Mansel returned to Jute.

“As I said, I’ll give you one lie. A refusal counts as a lie. Assume you’re on the ramparts above the gateway. How would you go from there to where Mrs. Pleydell lies?”

After a long silence⁠—

“Which way am I facing?” said Jute sullenly.

“You are facing the wood.”

Jute shut his eyes.

“I turn to the right,” he said, “and go as far as the tower. Then I turn again and walk along by the wall. At the end of that I come to another tower. There’s a door there.”

“In the tower?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“You go through that and down steps till you come to a hall. Cross this to the door in front. That leads you into a room out of which runs a flight of stairs.”

“Yes.”

“Go down them, and they’ll bring you into her room.”

“Or the chapel?” said Mansel quietly.

Jute started violently. Then he glared at Mansel, with a working face.

“That’s one lie,” said Mansel.

Jute let himself go.

Out of a foam of imprecation odd sentences thrust, like timbers plunging in a flood.

“I’ll see you, you one-legged ⸻⁠ ⁠… Put it over, you movie king⁠ ⁠… When next I meet you, I’ll cut my name on your back⁠ ⁠… We’ve got the goods, and, by ⸻, we’ll make you sweat⁠ ⁠… ‘Cut flowers’ won’t be in it⁠ ⁠… I’ll make you covet the day you played me up.”

Mansel put his pipe in his pocket and rose to his feet.

“You refuse to answer?”

A beastly light slid into Jute’s bloodshot eyes.

“My answer’s here,” he said, glancing down at his coat. “You were to have had it tonight, but, if you’re not too ‘pressed for time,’ perhaps you’ll look at it now.”

To this day I cannot tell what possessed the man.

I suppose he could not forgive Mansel for beating him at his own game: the thought that all the antics of Hannibal Rouse had been gravely accepted at exactly their proper worth, the memory of the trap into which he had so readily rushed and the bitter reception which he had met at Gath had, I think, inspired a hatred which knew no law. And now to be again confounded, outwitted and scornfully reduced had sent the blood to his head.

“What do you mean?” said Mansel.

“Try my inside pocket,” said Jute.

At a nod from Mansel I stepped to the fellow’s side and took a bulging envelope out of his coat.

“That’s my answer,” said Jute, “to all your backchat today. And, between you and me, Big Willie, I guess it’s pretty complete.”

Mansel ripped open the paper and took out a white silk blouse.⁠ ⁠…

I thought he would never move.

After a long time, very slowly he lifted his head.

“Call the servants,” he said, “and put the gag in his mouth.”

He spoke so low that I scarcely heard what he said: but, with his words, I knew that Jute’s hour was come.

For a moment the glade seemed misty, and my knees loose. Then my head cleared.

I saw Jute’s eyes follow Hanbury, as he stepped to the oak: then his gaze flashed to me, as I picked up the cotton waste. When I approached, he recoiled.

Sharply he looked at Mansel, and caught his breath.

“You⁠—you’d never dare,” he said hoarsely.

At last we had the gag in his mouth⁠ ⁠…

“This man,” said Mansel, “is engaged in one of the vilest crimes. In his lust for money he is not content to play even that filthy game according to its filthy rules.” He held up the blouse. “He is trying to win by taking Mrs. Pleydell’s clothes from her back and advertising that outrage to make me throw in my hand. I do not think that a man who does that is fit to live.”

His eyes bulging out of his head, Jute fell upon his knees.

Mansel turned to Hanbury and me.

“You will return to the cars and wait there until I send.”

We did as he said.

Two hours later, Rowley brought us back to the dell.

Mansel was sitting smoking, with a distant look in his eyes: as he worked, jacketing a crowbar, Carson was whistling to himself: Bell was wiping a spade with a handful of grass.

The contented mien of the servants, if nothing else, showed that the world was the cleaner.

By half past one the next morning all of us, except Bell, were standing upon the roof of the Castle of Gath.

The night was starlit, but the moon had set.

Each of us carried a knife as well as a pistol and wore a coil of rope, like a sash. Bell was at the foot of the ladders, with a signal-cord in his hand, and Tester was back in the wood, guarding the cars.

The castle was built foursquare, as college buildings, about a great courtyard. Its roof was flat and paved and so made a spacious rampart, which the battlements fenced upon one hand and a massive balustrade upon the other.

Indeed, standing there in the starlight, we seemed to be upon some ectype of the walls of Babylon, upon which, if I rightly remember, six chariots could be driven abreast.

Peering between the balusters, I could see the ripple of the water of which the bookseller had written and could hear it fall out of the basin on its way to the terrace and the cliff.

Now the basin was our first objective: and, since a rope provides the most silent path, we let one fall to the courtyard, and Carson and I went down.

We gained the basin and passed to the channel it fed. This was ten inches deep, and its floor was as smooth as glass. I followed the channel along till I came to the arch. This was shut by a gate, beneath which the water flowed. The gate was of iron and exactly fitted the arch: a man might have lain in the channel and crawled underneath, but, no doubt to foil such cunning, the channel was barred with a grating, through which the water fussed. I tested the bars and found them firm as rock.

I made my way back to Carson, and together we sought the rope down which we had come. Upon this Carson pulled twice, when a hundredweight of fine rope was lowered into our arms. We carried this to the grating and laid it down. To its end were attached three floats weighted with lead. With these in my hand, I thrust my arm under the grating as far as I could. Then I released them, and Carson paid out the rope. Now if there was another grating, this would arrest the floats: but, if there was not, the floats would leap with the water and carry the rope down the cliff. With a hand on the sliding rope, I waited for the check. But none came: only a sudden pull told us that the floats had leapt. There were eight hundred feet of cord, and, when we had paid them all out, we returned for more. Six hundred feet more we lowered, and that was as much as we had. The end we made fast to the grating below the water line. Then we went back to the rope down which we had come, and at a signal the others pulled us up.

Whatever the night might bring forth, we had taken at least one trick; for, though this time we might fail to release Adèle, we had now a way up to the terrace which the enemy would not dream of and a desperate man might take.

We were now beneath the shadow of the tower to the right of the gateway as you came from the wood: the southwest tower, from which Adèle had signalled, lay the length of the castle away.

So far as we knew, there were two ways into that tower from the open air⁠—one by the roof and another by the steps from the terrace upon which we had seen Adèle. The windows which lighted the tower were not to be reached, and the conical roof of the tower gave us no hope. And, since the way by the roof was plainly the first to try, we began to steal over the pavement, one by one.

Mansel went first: the rest of us followed, at one-minute intervals. Only Rowley stood fast, with a signal cord in each hand.

I had gone most of the way, when I felt a hand on my arm.

At once I stopped, and Hanbury, who was before me, spoke in my ear.

“There’s an alarm-cord, knee-high, two paces from where you stand. Tell Carson and then come on.”

He left me to wait for Carson and disappeared.

I was desperately afraid of fouling the cord, so I went on my stomach until the danger was past. I afterwards found that the others had done the same.

Mansel and Hanbury were waiting, when I came to the tower. And, as we had expected, there was a door.⁠ ⁠…

The door was of wood, very massive and studded with iron. It was shut and locked, or bolted, upon the other side. Whether we could have forced it, I do not know: but Jack Sheppard himself could not have had it open without making noise enough to awaken the dead.

And there, of course, was our principal handicap.

The door of Adèle’s apartment was sure to be locked; but that we were ready to force, no matter what noise we made: until, however, we were standing without her door, we dared make no manner of sound, for, the instant the alarm was raised, Rose Noble was certain to fly to his prisoner’s side and, if he was there before us, to put her life in the balance against our further advance.

There was nothing to be done but to try the terrace steps.

In silence we passed to the battlements, and from there looked down upon the terrace and the sliding ribbon of water that cut it in two. It was quieter here than in the courtyard, where the four walls gave back sound; the steady rustle of the cascade was only just to be heard.

In a moment a rope was dangling, and Mansel and George went down.

That the steps would offer an entrance we had great hope, for the bookseller’s guide had said nothing of any door, but only that the steps led out of the “gallery of stone.”

Carson and I stood like statues, he holding the signal cord and I with the rope in my hand.

Two gentle pulls from below told us to take the strain, and a moment later Hanbury was by our side.

He put his lips to my ear.

“There’s a door at the top of the steps⁠—locked. Mansel’s reconnoitring the terrace and then coming up.”

I confess that my spirits sank.

To enter by some window seemed now the only way: and we had already decided that, if we were put to such a shift, we must essay some window that looked upon the terrace below. What windows looked into the courtyard we neither knew nor cared, for anyone at work in the courtyard would be working in a four-walled trap and could be observed and commanded from any side.

Now the windows that looked upon the terrace were those of the royal rooms. They were not barred, because, I suppose, with guards upon the roof and in the galleries, no one could have come upon the King.

Again, that the royal apartments would be occupied was most unlikely. The caretakers might have been bribed, but they would certainly stipulate that the state rooms were not to be used. The last thing we wanted to do was to force an entrance into an occupied room.

Finally, the windows of the royal apartments had the world to themselves, for the towers which flanked the terrace were presenting two empty walls. Of no other side of the castle could the same thing be said.

Now which of the seven windows might be the best to essay we could not tell, but reason suggested that the one which was nearest Adèle should be the first to be tried. This we supposed to be serving the antechamber which admitted directly into the “gallery of stone.”

It was our belief that if we could reach the gallery we should have the control we sought, for, so far as we could determine, no one could enter the tower without passing through the gallery, unless he came down from the roof by the door which we had found shut. This belief we found to be just: the gallery was the key to the tower, and whoever held the gallery held Adèle. But one thing we did not suspect, namely, that there was a way into the gallery of which the bookseller’s guide said nothing at all.

A quarter of an hour went by before Mansel gave us the signal to hoist him up.

As he alighted, I perceived that he was drenched to the skin.

At once he drew us together and spoke very low.

“At the head of each flight of steps there’s a massive door: both doors are fast. The door at the mouth of the archway is shut and locked. I managed to pass beneath it, by lying down in the channel and working my way along. In the side of the archway I found a flight of steps⁠—a very steep spiral staircase, that comes to a sudden end. I’m certain it serves a trapdoor. If the bookseller’s guide is sound, that trapdoor should be in the King’s Closet. That would be natural enough.

“We can’t go that way tonight, because the trapdoor is fast. At least, I imagine it is, because I can’t move the slab I found at the top of the stairs: but, if we can enter the Closet by some other way tonight, we can unbar the trapdoor, and then, when we come by the terrace, we shall have our way in. Don’t think I’ve no hope of tonight, because I have: but, if we fail this time, we shall certainly fail the next⁠—unless we can turn this failure into a stepping-stone.”

With that he told Carson to let him have his shoes, because they were dry, and then to stand fast where he was, with the signal cord in his hand. George and I were to follow the way he went.

We moved as before, one by one, and, when again I found him, he was standing above the archway through which the water flowed.

I knew that below us was a window of three long lights.

An instant later Mansel was descending the wall.

This time we used two ropes, one fastened about him and the other down which he slid. When he jerked the one about him, we were to make this fast: and, if he should pull it five times, George was to go for Carson and they were to let me down.

Wet to the skin, clinging like a fly to the wall, with only one hand to help him, without a glimmer of light, Mansel worked upon that window for half an hour. I was kneeling directly above him, but I never heard a sound. Indeed, I could not believe that he was at work, but supposed that he had seen someone within the room and was content to watch them from where he hung. Yet all the time he was drawing the wrought-iron latch⁠—a feat which, had he not done it, I would have put beyond the power of man.

At last the ropes trembled and then swung slack in my hands. An instant later he signalled that he was within the room.

When I came down, he swung me in like a baby and asked for my torch.

The room was stately and full of the smell of age. The floor was of polished oak: the walls were panelled head high and tapestried above. The furniture was rich and massive, but very stiff, and had been ranged in order against the walls. A heavy carpet, much smaller than the room, lay in the midst of the floor, but all the furniture stood clear upon the oak. The two doors were conspicuous, for their frames rose above the panelling and each of them was fitted with a box lock of polished steel.

With one consent we turned to the door upon our left.

Very slowly, with infinite care, Mansel drew the spring latch. At once the door yielded, and Mansel set it wide. Not until he had wedged it with a morsel of rubber did we pass on.

So we entered the King’s Bedchamber.

Not even the unjust light of the torch could deny the majesty of that room.

I have never beheld a chamber so fit to lodge a king, and all the standards of greatness which the fairytales I read as a child had set in my heart were in a twinkling supplanted by what I saw.

The ceiling was of black oak, picked out with gold. The walls were panelled head-high: between the panels stood pilasters, picked out with gold. The carving of the panels and pilasters was very deep. Above the panelling hung tapestries, very rich in colour, presenting hunting scenes. The bedstead was four-posted: each of the posts was carved into the life-size semblance of a man-at-arms: coverlet, canopy and curtains were of what seemed to be a crimson faced cloth, very fine to look at and clearly of a great weight: all the stuffs and hangings with which the furniture was done were of the same dignity. The floor was of polished oak.

We stole across to the door in the farther wall.

This admitted us to the royal dining-room.

This chamber resembled the Closet and was of much the same size. A handsome table stood in the midst of the floor.

We wasted no time but passed on.

A moment later we stood in the antechamber.

This was small, but notable. The walls were not panelled, but covered with tapestry. Two massive, high-backed chairs were all the furniture.

The door we now found before us was not at all like those through which we had come. It admitted of course to the gallery which led to the tower: and it was like a church door, that is to say, iron-studded, and Gothic in shape. A wrought-iron lock of great size was fixed upon the inside, and above this a simple latch which had only to be lifted to be freed.

If hope could but open gates, I think this door would have crumbled before our eyes: but hope cannot open gates, and⁠—the door was fast.

Mansel stood very still.

At length he gave a short sigh and touched me upon the arm. A moment later we were moving the way we had come.

When we were again in the Closet, he put his mouth to my ear.

“Take a message to Hanbury. He and Carson will bring every tool we have to the southwest tower: then they will let fall a rope to the window of the antechamber, moving it to and fro until we take hold: when we do that they will come and take up the ropes which are hanging outside this room.”

When I returned, Mansel was down on his knees by a hole in the floor. On the carpet, now drawn to one side, lay a square of polished wood. The recess which he had disclosed was floored by a grey, stone slab: this had a ring in its midst and was rudely locked into place by a pair of hasps and staples, the pins of which Mansel had withdrawn.

Gently I lifted the slab, to disclose the winding stair which led to the archway below.

“Can you hold it?” breathed Mansel.

I nodded.

At once he replaced the square of polished wood: then he laid the carpet, face downward, between my legs.

I lowered the slab.

Using the carpet as a sledge, we drew the slab into the Bedchamber and up to the King’s bed. There we transferred it to my coat, and, lifting the crimson valence, thrust it beneath the bedstead and out of sight.

To restore the carpet to its place, close the window and take the wedge from the door took but a moment of time.

Then Mansel gave me a cloth and bade me polish the woodwork where we had stepped, especially about the casement which we had used.

When I had done so, he overlooked all with the torch.

Then we stole out of the room and closed the door.

Five minutes later we stood again in the antechamber and when we had opened a casement and found the rope, there was nothing to show, much less to suggest that we had seen the inside of any other room.

“And now the tools,” said Mansel, “and then Hanbury. Carson to stay where he is. We shall make the devil’s own noise, and he is to shoot at sight.” I climbed up and gave the message as fast as I could.

The time was now half past three: the stars were no more to be seen, and rain had begun to fall. This to our liking, for now any footprints we had made above or below would be wiped out: but the wet was against our foothold, and, as I came back, I slipped on the windowsill.

We had received the tools and were awaiting Hanbury, when some door within the castle was sharply closed.

It was some door behind us⁠—not very far away.

Called upon to say which, I would have named the door of the Closet. The clash of a heavy, spring lock was unmistakable.

Mansel put out the light, and we stood as still as death, straining our ears for footsteps and hearing none.

A rustle without the window told us that Hanbury had begun to descend the rope.

We could not stop him, for we had no signal-cord, and together we stood to the window to take him in without sound.

As we did so, came the creak of a floorboard, faint yet distinct. I would have said that it came from the Dining-room.

It was now as dark as pitch. I could not even see Mansel, two feet from where I stood.

Something swayed at the window.⁠ ⁠…

Then we had George in our arms and Mansel was unfastening the rope which was holding him up.

Again I heard a board creak⁠—somewhere at hand.

With the greatest care we lowered George to his feet. As we did so, the dais upon which we were standing tilted suddenly forward, and, with nothing to save us, the three of us crashed to the ground. As we fell, the massive step resumed its proper position with a deafening clap.

There had been nothing to show that the step was not fixed, and, indeed, it was so solid that I do not think it would have moved under ordinary use: but the weight of three men happening to fall upon its edge had, I suppose, been too much for its counterpoise.

For a moment we lay as we had fallen, straining our ears: then Mansel got to his feet and lighted the torch.

“You two all right?” he said.

We told him “yes.”

“Then quick,” says he, “for, by thunder, we’ve rung the bell.”

With that, he set Hanbury to watch the Dining-room door and hold the torch, while I took the stoutest chisel and laid its edge where the lock met the wood of the door.

“You strike,” said Mansel, taking it out of my hand.

I picked up and swung a hammer with all my might.⁠ ⁠…

I cannot attempt to tell the noise we made.

Perhaps our reluctance to make any noise at all and the infinite care we had taken to smother all sound magnified for us this sudden breach of silence: certainly the hour, the emptiness of the apartments and the style and proportions of the building made so many sounding-boards. Be that as it may, had the castle been full of troops and these been suddenly summoned by trumpet and tuck of drum I do not think the uproar could have won to our ears.

It took us, I suppose, two minutes to reduce that lock.

As Mansel wrenched it away, an iron fillet, into which its tongues were protruding, came also. This fillet was a false jamb, that ran the whole length of the door and was laid upon stone. Now that it was displaced, we could see that the door was bolted, top and bottom, upon the opposite side. The bolts were shot into the stone, but, the fillet gone, we could reach them and, with the slightest manipulation, could draw them clear of their sockets and open the door.

I put up a hand, but Mansel caught my arm. Someone was pounding upon the other side of the door.

Together we stared at the oak.

Then came Adèle’s clear voice.

“Is that you Jonah?”

“Yes, dear,” said Mansel. “One moment, and⁠—”

“No, no,” cried Adèle. “Stop. Stay where you are. Rose Noble’s here by my side. And he says if you open that door you’ll lose your match.”