Never, I suppose were hopes lifted so high one moment and dashed so low the next.

Indeed, I was so much confounded by the sudden overthrow of our fortune that I stood staring at the door, as a clown at a strange fish, and when I turned to Hanbury, who had come across to our side, he was wearing the blank expression of a player of chess who, having but two moves to make to win his match, suddenly perceives that his opponent has but one.

And this shows how fine was the stuff of which Mansel was made, for, though our dismay was nothing to the bitterness which must have been his, beyond raising his eyebrows he gave no manner of sign that he was put out, and, what was far more, he had a plan in an instant to save the game.

Before he could answer Adèle, we heard the clatter of footsteps and, then, Rose Noble’s deep voice speaking Casemate and Bunch by name.

Under cover of this distraction, Mansel caught us each by an arm.

“Time to be gone,” he whispered. “We’ve shot our bolt. Leave everything and clear out. I’m going to stay. Food and dry clothes to me by the waterfall cord. And paper and pencil. So long.”

Before we could speak, he had returned to the door.

“My dear Adèle,” he said, “I’m delighted to hear your voice.”

“Same here,” said Adèle, cheerfully.

Rose Noble laughed.

“ ‘Journeys end in lovers meeting,’ ” he said.

“How’s Boy?” said Adèle.

“None too bad,” said Mansel. “A bit hot and bothered you know, till we’d run you to earth: but that was natural. His leg’s just splendid.”

“How much does he know?” said Rose Noble.

That was as much as I heard, for Hanbury was at the window, and I had something to say before he was gone.

“I stay with Mansel,” I said. “Give me your pistol and torch.”

“I can’t leave you here,” said George.

“Quick,” said I. “We’ll argue another time.”

With that, I put my hands in his pockets and helped myself. There was a bunch of wedges we had not used. These I took, and his torch. He gave me his pistol unwillingly enough. Then he shook his head and went up the rope.

High words were flying as I swung myself into the rain. Rose Noble was clearly angry, and I heard Adèle’s scornful laugh.⁠ ⁠…

As soon as my feet touched the terrace, I made my way to the water and scrambled under the door. I had a vile wet passage, but I managed to save both pistols and Hanbury’s torch. The archway was dank and draughty, so I lost no time in finding the little staircase that served the trapdoor and, when I had found it, in climbing as high as I could. Here I was out of the wind and might have been snug; but my clothes were wringing wet and that made the stone seem cold.

I was quite sure that this was the spot at which Mansel proposed to be hid⁠—for that, of course, was his plan. He intended Rose Noble to think that he had withdrawn, and, presently taking the monster off his guard, to strike again.

And here I may say that I found his plan very good. To release Adèle might be beyond our power, but our luck would be out indeed, if we could not kill Rose Noble before two days were gone by, and his death, as I have said, would break the enemy’s back.

What Mansel would say, when he found me, I could not tell. He did not like disobedience: but for one man to stay alone in such an enemy’s camp seemed to me out of reason, and I hoped very much that he would share my view.

I had not long to wait.

A sudden quickening of the rustle the water made told me that Mansel was passing beneath the door, and an instant later I heard his foot on the stair.

“Mansel,” I breathed. “Chandos speaking.”

“Ah, William,” said he: and that was all.

He sat down on the step below mine and put his head in his hands.

After a little he spoke.

“I didn’t dare stay. Rose Noble was bound to exploit a chance like that. You see, without an audience there’s no point in doing her harm: but with me, so to speak, looking on.⁠ ⁠… He struck her, Chandos. And, because she wouldn’t cry out, he struck her again.⁠ ⁠… And so it seemed best to go.⁠ ⁠… Oh, my God,” he cried suddenly, “there are times when I’d take your offer and buy her out.”

“It’s always open,” I said.

“I know,” he said, “I know.”

For a long time we sat in silence. Then he gave a short sigh.

“Drink some of this,” he whispered, and put a flask into my hand.

It was brandy and did us both good, for our state of mind and of body was wretched enough.

Presently he spoke again.

“No,” he said. “No. What’s the good of buying a broken heart? We’ve got to beat Rose Noble: there’s no other way. But it’s a dreadful business to have to go so slow.”

That was a true saying.

Indeed, the next sixteen hours were the worst I have ever spent. I can never remember them without a shudder, and to our restless senses they seemed more like sixteen days. Without cause we dared not emerge: no cause presented itself. The rain fell down without ceasing, and, though we took it in turns to watch from the archway, no one appeared in the courtyard, or, so far as I know, visited the terrace upon the opposite side. Command the terrace we could not, unless we lay down in the channel below the door: and that was dangerous, for the noise which the water made embarrassed the ear, and we might well have been noticed before we had time to withdraw. There was, however, the keyhole of the great door itself, and, whilst we were listening there, I do not think one could have passed without our hearing his steps.

We saw the dawn come in and the day draw to its close: we heard the drip of the rain and the sigh of the wind: and that was all.

One thing only we decided, for you cannot make bricks without straw, and we had no data with which to make any plan. We determined that, when night had fallen and we dared pull up the rope, we would enter the King’s Closet and eat and rest in such comfort as that room could give. The risk of discovery was small, and, if we could not take shelter which would allow us to sleep, we should, we knew, be unfitted to strike when the moment came. I do not mean that when the day was over we had no resistance left, for we were both very strong and had suffered adversity far more exacting than this; but we knew that to rob Rose Noble the eye must be clear, the hand unearthly swift and all the senses at the very top of their pitch or, as the saying is, a man might as well go home.

At last the daylight faded, and the rain ceased.

When it was quite dark, we laid hold of the rope in the channel and took the strain. To our delight it was loaded, so, bidding me stay where I was and haul it in, Mansel crawled under the door and made for the balustrade beneath which the waterfall leapt.

At last I felt a check, and, very soon after, a package done up in oiled silk was thrust under the door.

Two minutes later we were in the King’s Closet, with good, oak boards beneath us and wedges under the doors.

As well as changes of clothing, Hanbury had sent us a blanket sewn into the shape of a bag: this was just what we needed and, with the square of carpet, promised a good night’s rest.

But first there was work to be done.

There was food enough for five, and, what was better still, a bottle of excellent brandy by way of drink.

We changed and made our meal by the shaded light of a torch, for to do such things in the dark without making a sound required more time and care than we were prepared to expend: and, when we had done, Mansel wrote out the first message which we were to send to George:

George.

Send up Adèle’s dressing-case.

1. Is there any reason why we should not descend by this rope at any time?

2. Where is the cover nearest to the foot of the cliff and what shape does it take?

I wished to go out this time, but Mansel would not consent. Whilst, therefore, I let down the message, he changed again into his dripping clothes, and, as soon as I took the strain, he returned to the balustrade.⁠ ⁠…

Hanbury’s answer was clear.

1. No reason at all. We have lengthened the rope, so that it reaches the ground. By day the last forty feet will be concealed in a bush. No one could ever climb up without help from above.

2. Beechwoods two furlongs northeast. Unless you direct otherwise, one car will be always concealed within sound of the drive, and one at the foot of this cliff from nightfall till dawn.

As soon as he had changed, Mansel wrote out his reply.

Good. Visit the beechwoods twice daily at ten and three. Don’t wait any longer tonight. Send Carson and another to Poganec with the enclosed note instead.

The note was addressed to Captain Pleydell and was very short.

I have spoken with Adèle. She is very cheerful and seems to be in excellent health.

These dispatches I sent alone, and, when they were gone, we finally closed the trapdoor and getting into our blanket, lay down on the carpet to sleep.

Whether Mansel rested I know not, but I slept like the dead. The Closet was full of pale light when I awoke, and Mansel was at the window, with his eyes on the east.

It was ten o’clock in the morning, the weather was very fine, and I had my ear to the keyhole of the archway door, when I heard a footstep upon the terrace beyond.

As I turned to summon Mansel, I felt his hand on my arm.

“Casemate is with her,” he said.

The next instant he was down in the channel and was peering under the door.

Slowly Adèle and her warder passed into and out of my view. Her hair had been rudely shorn to the shape of her head, and about her shoulders she wore a rag of a shawl.

Then I heard Casemate’s voice.

“⁠⸻ this sunshine,” he said. “Don’t you want a hat on your curls?”

“No,” said Adèle.

“Well, I guess I do,” said Casemate. “You carry on, an’ move. You’re not here to wave to Charlie: you’re here for exercise. An’ Rose is red-hot this morning, so I shouldn’t tread on his toes.”

With that, he left her.

“Pull up the rope,” said Mansel; and, before I could think, he was gone.

I was taken so much by surprise that, though I did his bidding, I could hardly believe that our attempt at rescue was fairly begun. Casemate was seeking his hat: that, before he returned, we should be able to let down Adèle to safety seemed to me a chance in a thousand, while, if we were caught in the act, her life would be in great peril and our present enterprise wrecked. I found it unlike Mansel to take such a risk and was wondering whether for once his zeal had outrun his discretion, when Adèle’s face appeared in the channel almost between my legs.

In a flash I had her under the arms, and had drawn her clear of the door and lifted her up. Mansel followed at once, and, whilst I worked like a madman to pull up the rope, he spoke to Adèle.

“If we can do it in time, we shall let you down the face of the cliff. The moment you’re down, unfasten the rope and run for your life to the beechwoods that lie northeast.” He pointed the direction with his arm. “Over there. George or Carson will be there with one of the Rolls. Tell them to drive you⁠—”

He stopped short there, and, after listening intently, caught my wrist.

“Let go the rope,” he breathed.⁠ ⁠…

For a moment I could hear nothing. Then came Rose Noble’s voice.

“Hat be damned. I said ‘See that she moves.’ By ⸻, that’s clean enough talking. D’you think⁠—”

And there, I suppose, he saw that Adèle was gone.⁠ ⁠…

For a moment there was dead silence. Then came a rush of steps to the balustrade.

Adèle and Mansel and I stood still as death, while the rope fled steadily back the way it had come. That Rose Noble must now observe it seemed almost certain: whether he would see that it was moving we could not tell.

A sudden roar from the terrace made my heart stand still.

“By ⸻, she’s gone,” screeched Rose Noble. “Look at that ⸻ cord.”

“She’s never had time,” cried Casemate. “I only⁠—”

“Time?” howled Rose Noble. “Time? It’s only your white-livered sort that wants time to break out of hell. Bunch! Punter!” he yelled. “Turn out the ⸻ car. Go and help them, you ⸻. And if we don’t take her at the foot of this blasted rock I’ll twist your block off your body with my bare hands.”

Before the threat was issued, Casemate was gone. I could hear him shouting for Bunch like a man possessed.

The rope was now back in the channel and lying as snug and as taut as though it had never been touched.

Mansel was speaking low.

“Sit down on the step, dear, and let me pull off your boots.”

Adèle obeyed him at once. She was, of course, drenched to the skin.

“Now go up these stairs: they’ll bring you into a room. Your dressing-case is there. Change your clothes as quickly as ever you can. The instant you’re through, come back.”

Here came voices from the courtyard, and almost at once I saw figures about the car. This was in the midst of the archway that ushered the castle gate and directly opposed to that beneath which we stood. The car was standing, as we were, in deep shadow, but the courtyard was full of light. It follows that I could not distinguish whose the figures might be but, after a little, I heard Rose Noble’s voice. I suppose the car was unready, for her engine would not start for all the frenzy with which someone was swinging the shaft. Another⁠—Casemate, I think⁠—was clumsily dashing spirit into the tank.⁠ ⁠…

At last with a stammer and then with a sudden roar the engine came to life: and that put an end to my observation, for the noise was deafening and a dense smoke from the exhaust screened any movement that was made.

Suddenly the gate was opened, and the car shot out.

Mansel’s hand touched my shoulder.

“Can you see who’s shutting the gate?”

“I think it’s the woman,” said I. “Yes, I can see her skirt.”

“Good,” said Mansel. “And now I think we’ll follow. But I hope the others won’t try to get in their way. Could you tell at all how many got into the car?”

I shook my head.

“Rose Noble?”

“I assume so,” said I. “I certainly heard his voice. Besides, you heard what he said.”

“I don’t count what he says,” said Mansel. “If he saw that the rope was moving, I’ve played my cards wrong.”

“What else could you have done?”

“Followed Casemate and met him,” said Mansel.

“But you couldn’t have known⁠—”

Mansel smiled.

“You never do⁠—at cards,” he said.

Adèle’s voice came from the stairway.

“I’m ready, Jonah,” she said.

A moment later we were in the King’s Closet.

With the utmost caution Mansel opened the door: then he signed to Adèle to follow. I caught up her dressing-case and brought up the rear.

The King’s Bedchamber was empty.

Like thieves in the night, we stole across its floor and into the Dining-room.

A moment later we entered the antechamber.

The door was as we had left it; but the hammers and chisels were gone, and the window was shut.

With a little manipulation I had the upper bolt free and wheedled it clear of the jamb. The lower, however, resisted, and Mansel, who was down on his knees, was able neither to turn it nor thrust it back.

At length he rose to his feet.

“Are the ropes there, Chandos?”

I stepped to the window, but the ropes were gone.

When I told him, he frowned.

Then he wedged the door, so that it could not be opened from the opposite side, and rose to his feet.

“Come,” he said, turning. “We must try the other end of the suite.”

So we came back to the Closet and, passing through the Queen’s rooms, entered the other antechamber which the bookseller’s guide had shown us that we might expect.

There was now before us a door like that we had left, which gave, no doubt, into the other “gallery of stone.”

And this door also was fast.

I confess that here the sweat ran over my face.

To be within hail of freedom, to have the prison to ourselves, to have come so far, only to be prevented, as rabbits left in a hutch, was almost more than I could bear.

Mansel took a wedge from his pocket and thrust it under the door. Then he led us back to the Closet and down the winding stair.

“Wait here,” he said. “It’s no good our all getting wet. I’m going through the door at the head of the terrace steps. That should be open, all right. And then, if I can, I’ll draw that blasted bolt.”

With that, he was gone.

I clapped my ear to the keyhole, and Adèle’s hand stole into mine. I remember thinking that she was seeking comfort, but now I know that she would have comforted me. I was trembling so much that I could not keep my head steady against the wood.

Then I heard the sound which I dreaded, and trembled no more.

I heard Mansel go by with a rush, to try the opposite door.

He was back in an instant.

As I helped him out of the channel⁠—

“I should have kept a chisel,” he said. “But, chisel or no, we must try that bolt again.”

Adèle laid a hand on his arm.

“You’ll die of cold, dear,” she said. “Have you dry things?”

“We mustn’t wait, my lady. I⁠—”

“I won’t stir from here,” said Adèle, “until you’ve changed.”

Mansel smiled and was gone.

There were dry clothes in the Closet, for Hanbury had had the foresight to send us two changes apiece.

Adèle had me by the coat.

“Oh, why did you stay?” she breathed. “If Rose Noble gets him, he’ll break him by eighths of an inch. I never knew what hate was, till I heard that terrible man. And he’s got it in for Jonah from bottom to top. I’m nothing⁠—a lever at most⁠ ⁠… one of the levers of the rack. It’s only the money that can save him. Remember that. Dying men can’t sign cheques. But if ever the cheque is signed.⁠ ⁠… How much is he asking?”

“Five hundred thousand,” said I.

I felt her fingers tighten upon my coat.

“He’d take a hundred thousand⁠—with Jonah thrown in. I’ve heard him say so⁠—not once, but fifty times. I tell you⁠—”

“Chandos,” said Mansel from the stairway, “pull in that rope. Cut a length of a hundred yards. If we can’t shift that bolt⁠ ⁠…”

What else he said I never knew, for the moment I handled the cord, I knew that it had been severed a few feet away.

I think I must have exclaimed, for Mansel called sharply to know what the matter might be.

“It’s cut already,” said I, and, with that, I pulled in what was left and proved my words.

With his back to Adèle, Mansel looked me full in the eyes.

“I was right⁠—just now,” he said quietly. “I ought to have led out Clubs.” Then he turned to Adèle. “Come, my lady,” he said, “and we’ll have another whack at that door.”

“Tell me, Jonah,” said Adèle.

“My dear,” said Mansel, “Rose Noble’s a careful man. He locks the door before the horse is stolen, but he takes the precaution of locking it afterwards, too. Never mind. We’ll get out somehow.”

When we entered the Closet, he picked up the bottle of brandy and poured some into a glass.

“The stirrup cup,” he said, smiling, and gave the glass to Adèle.

Then he and I drank quickly.

A moment later we were crossing the Bedchamber’s floor.

As we entered the Dining-room⁠—

“That’ll do,” said Rose Noble.

There was nothing to be said or done.

The fellow was sitting in a chair at the head of the table, with his elbows upon the board and a pistol in either hand.

Never before or since have I felt so far out of my depth.

A moment before, we had had the suite to ourselves: the entrance doors had been wedged and as good as barred: no sound of any sort had come to our vigilant ears. Yet our movements had been closely observed, our intentions had been accurately gauged, and our enemy had been able to snare us with the effortless ease of a nurse outwitting a child.

“Keep your hands up,” said Rose Noble, “and come and sit down⁠—you two twopenny squirts to right and left, and the goods facing me. Move.”

Slowly we did as he said.

“Now put your palms on the table.” Again we obeyed.

“And if anyone wants to die, they’ve only to move a hand.”

Desperately I tried to marshal my wits, for if ever a clear head was needed to save the game, it was needed now; but my brain was ever wayward, and I remember thinking how strange a picture we made and how much astonished King Maximilian would have been, could he have viewed such a company gracing his private board.

Before me Mansel sat easily, leaning back in his chair. His hair was wet and rumpled, and he wore no collar or tie. His light, tweed coat, turned up about his neck, became him admirably and a quiet smile was lighting his handsome face. On my left Adèle sat upright: her colour was high and, because of her short, crisp hair, she looked like some old picture of a beautiful boy. She was wearing a fawn-coloured dress, and white silk was edging her delicate wrists and throat. Laid upon the smooth, dark oak, her lovely hands were unforgettable. And on my right, deep in the King’s great chair, sat Rose Noble. One pistol lay before him: the other was in his right hand. His great bulk was loose as ever, and his huge face grey and flabby as when I had seen him first. He stayed so still that he might have been some gross idol, carved out of stone. Their lids, as usual, were almost hiding his eyes, and a faint smile was hanging upon the cruellest mouth that I have ever seen.

For a long time he held his peace, but at length he gave a smooth laugh.

“ ‘Stone walls do not a prison make,’ ” he said softly. “An’ I guess you three could heckle the guy that wrote that.”

“My favourite maxim,” said Mansel pleasantly. He looked across the table at me. “William,” he said, “we must do better next time. There’s a door behind our host⁠—in the panelling. There’s probably one in each room. They open into a passage which⁠—”

“Quite so,” drawled Rose Noble. “Quite so. I call it ‘The Listening Post.’ ” His eyelids flickered, and the blood came into my face. “And now, perhaps, you’ll let the geography stew and listen to me. I wasn’t at Oxford College, but I guess the notes I’ve sent you were plain enough.”

“As plain as my replies,” said Mansel.

“I didn’t hear them,” said Rose Noble. “But, now we’re so snug, maybe you’ll say them again.”

“The first thing,” said Mansel at once, “is to clear the air. This lady may be your prisoner, but I am not. One doesn’t imprison one’s broker if one happens to want some funds. I mean, that’s elementary.”

“Maybe it is,” said Rose Noble. “One don’t spoil his right hand either. But I’ve known a guy that kicked when he had two lights, as mild as his mother’s milk when he had but one.”

“I daresay you have,” said Mansel. “It takes some people that way.”

Rose Noble moistened his lips.

“I’m not out to break you,” he said. “It’s the goods that’ll get the rough.”

“Are getting the rough,” said Mansel. “And there again I advise you to watch your step. ‘Perishable goods’ have a market: but ‘damaged goods’ make a very different price.”

“They’re not damaged⁠—yet,” said Rose Noble. “And I’m still waiting for a bid.”

Mansel raised his eyebrows.

“A few months ago,” he said quietly, “you stole some papers of mine. Give me them back, and I’ll pay you a hundred pounds and hold my tongue.”

I was aghast at his boldness and fully expected a truly dreadful outburst by way of reply. But none came: and after a little silence I breathed again.

Rose Noble lifted his lids and looked at Adèle.

I cannot describe the awfulness of his gaze. Hatred, malice and all uncharitableness burned in those terrible orbs. Themselves monstrous, their message was like unto them, and before its beastly menace my blood ran cold.

“You hear?” he said grimly. “You’re pretty enough to fool round, but, when it’s a question of paying, your gentleman-friend gets off.”

Adèle flushed under his tongue.

“It’s never been a question of paying,” she said.

“Big words,” said Rose Noble. “But they won’t pull you out of this mess. Your health and your name’s on the counter: and if you fancy either, you’d better trouble Big Willie to open his purse.”

“My name?” said Adèle, frowning.

“Your name,” said Rose Noble softly. “You see, I’m not selling to your husband. I’m selling to the man next door.”

Adèle’s colour came and went. She looked round swiftly.

Then⁠—

“You mean⁠—”

“That I have not asked your husband to buy you back. That I have ignored his existence from first to last. That he’s all sure and grateful that Big Willie’s hoeing his row. That Big Willie daren’t undeceive him⁠ ⁠… daren’t so much as breathe my name⁠—for fear of its putting ideas into his innocent head.”

The brutal accuracy of this saying was to me like a buffet which makes the head sing again: and my brain seemed suddenly pygmy beside that of this terrible man.

Adèle had gone very pale.

“You mistake us,” she said coldly. “Our understanding⁠—”

“So I guess,” said Rose Noble, as though she had not opened her mouth, “your pretty name is as much for sale as your health. Of course, if it isn’t bought in, your husband can have it back. But it’s not every fool, by ⸻, that’ll pick up a rotten rose.”

“I agree,” said Mansel. “In fact, all you say would be very much to the point, if I hadn’t told Captain Pleydell that I was in love with his wife.”

Very slowly the blood flowed into Adèle’s sweet face. She did not look at Mansel, and her eyes which were resting on Rose Noble, never moved. But, after a little, I saw that their focus had changed and that, though she was looking before her, she did not see, because she was lost in thought.

Rose Noble gave a thick laugh.

“I see,” he said smoothly. “And, of course, he couldn’t kick you⁠—because of his leg. Well, well⁠ ⁠… And if you think that chokes me, you’re nursing the dirty end. I guess I’ve a sleeve full of trumps⁠—but if you don’t want to see them you know the way.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to play them,” said Mansel. “You see, we don’t mind paying, but it wouldn’t amuse the lady to know she’d been bought.”

“That’s right,” said Adèle.

Rose Noble sat back in his chair.

“You mean she don’t care to be mortgaged outside your arms?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Mansel.

“I’ll take it as read. I don’t move around on your dunghills, but I guess a woman’s a woman whether she’s warming her maid or selling fish. This man can bend her fingers, and that one can go to hell. ‘With love from little Willie’ don’t happen to suit her book. Maybe it don’t suit yours. And so I’ll help you out.” He leaned suddenly forward. “Be here in this room yourself a week from today, with two hundred and fifty thousand in Bank of England notes, and I’ll let the three of you go.”

“Nothing doing,” said Adèle swiftly.

“I am not prepared,” said Mansel, “to continue to talk this over while Mrs. Pleydell sits there.”

Rose Noble’s eyes narrowed.

“If you don’t like the rules,” he drawled, “you ⸻ well needn’t play. I’ve picked my words so far, but run me up and I’m not going to cramp my tongue. If you’re bunched round my table, God didn’t put you there. You horned right into this parlour, and, if you don’t like the eats, I guess you can swallow them whole.”

“I repeat my request,” said Mansel. “I decline to⁠—”

“I don’t fancy that verb,” snapped Rose Noble, using a savage oath. “You may feel ugly, but I’ve the right end of the gun. And now try and get me, you ⸻. I’m running this ⸻ party from the soup to the pineapple’s bush. If you wanted a Bible reading, you’ve come the wrong day of the week. We’re talking business this morning. It mayn’t smell as sweet as lipsalve, but, if I find your linen dirty, I reckon you made it foul.”

“I repeat my request,” said Mansel steadily.

Rose Noble sucked in his breath. Then he opened his blazing eyes.

“Then finish,” he said, “you ⸻. You say you’ve told her husband you want his wife. I’ll give you some more to tell him, next time you meet. So far she’s lived alone in her private suite. Bedroom and bathroom adjoining, as tight as you please. Now we’ll cut out the bathroom, sonny, and she’ll share⁠—”

“I decline to⁠—”

With a roar Rose Noble flung forward, and Mansel’s bare hands shot out. The left struck aside the pistol, as Rose Noble fired: the right hit the beast on his mouth and knocked him into his chair. But for this, he must have gone down before the weight of the blow, but the chair was massive and, though it rocked for a moment, it held him up.

The sudden support saved him.

As I snatched at the second pistol, he swept it off the board, but the movement disordered his aim, and his second bullet went wide.

“Into the bedroom,” yelled Mansel, hurling an oaken footstool, with all his might.

As I hustled Adèle through the doorway, I heard a screech of pain and a third report. Then Mansel whipped into the room and I slammed the door.

“Quick! Wedge the doors,” breathed Mansel.

Now that we suspected their presence, the doors in the panelling were easy to find, and, since they opened inwards, before thirty seconds had passed the Closet and Bedchamber had been secured.

As I drove the last wedge, Mansel leaned his back to the wall and covered his eyes.

“That chair,” he said brokenly. “That chair. It’s enough to break a man’s heart. I’d no time to hit him square, but I never so much as dreamed that that damned chair wouldn’t go. If it had⁠ ⁠…”

Adèle put her arms round his neck, drew down his head to hers and kissed his lips.

“My darling,” she said quietly, “no man could have done so well.”

“By God, that’s true,” I cried.

“Oh, Adèle,” said Mansel simply, “I do love you so much.”

Then his arms went about her, and she hid her face in his coat.

Sitting on the floor of the Closet, I summed up our circumstances as best I could.

For the moment, Adèle was safe. What remained of the food which we had drawn up the cliff would last us with care for two days. We had three pistols, each holding seven rounds, and we had the run of two rooms and a way down into the archway⁠—for what it was worth. That we could hold this position I had no doubt: indeed, it seemed most unlikely that Rose Noble would make an attack, for, unless we three could break out or Hanbury and the servants could break in, we must in three or four days fall into his hands.

For us to break out would be extremely hard: we had long ago perceived that the two “galleries of stone” were the keys to the royal suite, and that these were joined by a passage meant that we were surrounded by a guardroom which two men could hold against twenty, the inside of which we had not so much as seen.

With Hanbury and the servants we were no longer in touch. Our line of communication had been cut, and, even though George should decide to attempt our relief, I could not see that four men could bring this about. Six had been none too many two nights ago, and for four to repeat an assault which had only succeeded because it was a surprise seemed to me a hopeless adventure.

I found it hard not to believe that Fortune had taken her stand on the enemy’s side. Had we known of the doors in the panelling, not once but five times over should we have won our match: without that precious knowledge, two nights ago we had all but rescued Adèle: if Rose Noble had not met Casemate in search of his hat, Adèle by now might well have been thirty miles off: but for the weight of the chair, Rose Noble must have been dead ten minutes ago. This last was a bitter thought. Looking back, I perceived how Mansel had made the brute angry in order to make him move and had actually lured the master into the way of a fool, how he had ignored gross insult and let Adèle suffer in silence to gain his end, and how only the fear of depriving Adèle of his service had made him break off a battle which he might well have won.

Then I fell to considering Mansel and Adèle and their love⁠—for now I was sure that she loved him as he did her⁠—and what ever would be the outcome of an affair at once so passionate and so much out of joint.

God knows I did not blame them: I was rather exulting to see two such great hearts at one. It was the future that troubled me, the reckoning that would have to be paid.

And whilst I was in the midst of this reflection, the two came into the Closet, with shining eyes.

I got to my feet, and Adèle gave me her hand.

I kissed it naturally.

“William,” she said, “I think I have the finest lover in the world.”

“You have, indeed,” said I, gravely.

“William the Faithful,” said Mansel and laughed like a boy. He stepped to the trap. “And now,” said he, “I’m going to spy out the land. Don’t talk too loud, you two, and stay in the doorway, please, so that you can watch both rooms.”

“Very good,” said I, and went to my post at once.

When Mansel was gone, Adèle came to my side.

“Sit down, William,” she said. “I want you to know how I feel.”

We sat down on the floor, like two children, and Adèle leaned her head against the wall and slid her slight arm through mine.

“I’m in love with Jonah,” she said. “I think I’ve loved him for years, but I never knew. And then, when I first saw Rose Noble and Jute pulled me off the mare, I remembered our talk in the forest and I knew what they wanted me for. They meant to hurt Jonah through me. That meant that Jonah loved me: and then, all of a sudden, I knew that I loved him. I was terribly worried at first, because it seemed so awful to be in love with anyone other than Boy. And then I came to see that, so long as nobody knew, no harm would be done. And I made up my mind that no one should ever know⁠—not even Jonah himself⁠ ⁠… Well, you saw me break down. You saw me kiss him and put my arms round his neck. I suppose I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m so thankful I did. I want you to know that, William. And Jonah’s so happy, too. We’ve had it all out and we both of us feel the same. You see, we’re locked up here, in a sort of No Man’s Land that lies between life and death. If we die⁠—well, that’s the end. If we live, then we go back. But we can’t tell which it will be, and, so long as we’re in that land, we’re going to love each other with all our heart.”

“But, oh, Adèle,” said I, “what about going back?”

A very soft light came into her wonderful eyes.

“You can’t take away memory,” she said. “That we shall have forever, like a star that’s always in the sky. I’m not seeking to justify myself. I know I’m another man’s wife. But I don’t care, William. Nature and Fortune have driven us into this Eden, and I don’t think we should be human if we didn’t help each other to pick the flowers.”

“I don’t think you would,” said I heartily.

And that is the point of view I hold today. I daresay it cannot be defended. I can only say that Jonathan Mansel and Adèle were two of a kind that I never saw before and have never seen since. They were wise: “they were lovely and pleasant in their lives”: they were nonpareil: and, looking back, I find it most natural that, suddenly faced with life in the midst of death, two natures so alike and so peerless should have comforted each other.

Adèle looked at me swiftly.

“Do you mean that you understand? I don’t think you can do that?”

“I can understand enough,” said I, “to be very glad you’re so happy.”

“Thank you, William,” she said. “And please don’t feel left out. Jonah was only saying a moment ago that you were the only living being he didn’t mind seeing our love.”

“History repeats itself,” said I, indicating the rooms. “The equerry doesn’t feel left by his king and his queen.”

“Oh, he’s a courtier,” cried Adèle, clapping her hands.

“Don’t slander my lieutenant,” said Mansel, putting his head through the floor. “And here’s a piece of good news.” He sank his voice to a murmur. “The car is still out.”

“Which means?” breathed Adèle.

“I hope and believe it means that it’s gone for good, that George and the servants have got it and all or some of its crew. When Rose Noble sent them out, he knew very well that there was nothing to see: he knew we were in the archway and he sent them packing to mislead us and draw us out: I admit he pulled that off, but, unless and until they return, I believe he’s alone.”

I suppose that I showed my excitement, for he continued at once.

“But please remember Rose Noble’s a host in himself. He may be single-handed, but he’s worth ten ordinary men. And so we must watch and wait. If only we’d known of that passage two nights ago⁠—”

“Then,” said Adèle, “you’d never have known that I loved you. And now, please, I’m hungry. Will one of you give me some food?”

Mansel smiled.

“Feminine influence, William, is a terrible thing. With this girl-child round our necks, we shall forget we’re at war.”

“Forget it,” said I, rising, “for half an hour. While you two lunch, I’ll watch the castle gate.”

“Very well,” said Mansel, hoisting himself to the floor. “But keep in the shadow and report the first sign of life. If Hanbury’s sunk the pinnace, I don’t think what’s left of her crew will come aboard before dark. At least, they’ll be fools if they try. But we can’t hang our lives on guesswork and so we must watch. And, by the time I’ve eaten, I may have some plan.”

But he had not: neither had I.

Through all that afternoon we three might have been alone in the Castle of Gath. If others spoke or moved, we neither saw nor heard them, and, when the light faded, we were still without any grounds on which to base any belief.

Of the ways of the castle Adèle knew far less than we, for she had been brought in blindfold and had never, before we seized her, been beyond the “gallery of stone”: but, had she been able to tell us that a tunnel led out of the chapel to Salzburg itself, the knowledge would not have helped us, for we dared not use the passage, in case it was held.

What remained of the waterfall cord was some sixty feet long, and this we had all ready to help our escape. Could we, therefore, have gained the roof, we could doubtless have reached the spur; but we had no means of ascent, and, though I essayed both chimneys, these were built of hewn stone and only a very small child could have made its way up their shafts.

But for Adèle, Mansel and I would have sallied and might well, I think, have escaped. If the passage was under fire, at least it must be lighted by windows which overlooked the courtyard, and we would have chanced a lot in order to reach the gate. To such a risk, however, we dared not expose Adèle. Here I think we were wise. Unless he could starve us to surrender, Rose Noble’s hope of ransom was gone by the board: once we sallied, therefore, the fellow had nothing to gain by sparing our lives⁠—but much to lose, for he knew very well that we would shoot him at sight. Add to this that we had lately enraged him as never before, and you will see that to run such a gauntlet, with Adèle, so to speak, in our arms, was out of the question.

At last we decided to write a message to George and making it into a parcel, to cast it over the cliff.

So far as my memory serves me, this was how the note ran:

George.

The rope has been cut. We are fast in the Closet and the Bedchamber and we have got Adèle. There is a passage connecting the two stone galleries and looking upon the courtyard. You will attack tomorrow⁠—Friday, half an hour after dark. As before, gain the roof: go directly to the door in the southwest tower: guard that: then let fall three ropes to the windows of the King’s Closet: the moment these are in place, demonstrate. You will demonstrate by letting down a ladder to one of the windows of the passage and accidentally breaking the glass. Carefully rehearse the demonstration, which must last one minute. Whilst it is going on, you will take up Adèle by one of the ropes: rush her along the roof, lower her down to the spur and run with her for the wood: Chandos and I will follow. Not counting the caretakers, Rose Noble is, I think, alone⁠—except for those who escaped when you stopped the car. Work out the whole attack with the greatest care: it must not fail.

We wrapped the note in oiled silk and then in a wet coat of mine, to serve as ballast: this we made into a parcel, and at ten o’clock that night I hurled it over the cliff.

Neither Mansel nor I had expected to sleep at all, for the castle gate had to be watched as well as the doors of the chambers in which we lay; but Adèle insisted on taking her turn with us, so each of us slept for two hours and watched for four.

Adèle, was the first to rest, and I was the last; and I remember how I stole up the stairway at two o’clock, to find the rooms full of moonlight, Adèle in the midst of the doorway with her fair head against the jamb, and Mansel sleeping like a child, with her arms about him and his head in her lap. And, when he was gone to the archway and I would have lain alone, she would not have it so, but made me lie down as he had and pillow my head upon her.

The castle gate was not opened during the night: and this made us certain that those that had left with the car were in Hanbury’s hands.

We, therefore, decided to watch no more from the archway, but only to use it as and when we required. To this end we stopped the keyholes of the door and the gate and wedged a cage-grate in the channel beneath the door, to prevent an entry by stealth while our backs were turned.

And here let me say that before it was light we had all three bathed in the channel and made as fair a toilet as our means would allow. Mansel and I could do no more than shave and make ourselves clean, but Adèle must change her frock for one of a powder blue, and, when we sat down to breakfast, she was as point-device in appearance as though she had just left her bedroom in London Town.

The day passed quietly enough, and, except that one of us was always in the Bedchamber, listening for any sound, we kept no particular watch.

Adèle and Mansel were happy as the day was long. I have never seen two beings so plainly glad of each other, so easy and natural in their love. There was nothing common or unclean in all their tenderness, and, so far from embarrassing my senses, my acquaintance with such devotion lifted up my heart.

One thing only troubled us, and that was the absolute silence which reigned without our doors.

That Rose Noble should make no sound was natural enough: yet the continuous absence of any sign of life came to insist that we had the castle to ourselves and to tempt us against all reason out of our lair. This temptation we certainly resisted, but with every hour the suggestion that we were alone increased in strength, until, when the evening came, we were all three unsettled and did not know what to think. In a way this did not matter, for, if, indeed, Rose Noble were out of the way, our release by Hanbury must be a simple affair: yet the bare idea of such fortune seemed something sinister, like the counsel of a prophet whose eyes are not straight in his head.

“The truth is,” said Mansel, “we ought to have played his game. We shouldn’t have made a sound for twenty-four hours. Then he’d’ve begun to wonder if we were gone: and at last he’d’ve tried to find out and shown his hand. As it is, the positions are reversed, and he’s fairly got us guessing⁠—which is just what he wants.”

This was uncommon sense, but, even whilst I agreed, I found myself supposing that Rose Noble was dead or gone and finding the supposition curiously untoward.

For this strange uncertainty of outlook I have never been able to account: I am not given to imagining vain things, or to letting my fancy fly in the face of fact: yet, though I was not uneasy, my mind would not come to rest, but continually dwelled upon the silence and the prosperous tale which it told.

At last the day was over, and dusk came in.

When it was dark, we opened the Closet windows and shut the trapdoor. Then Mansel set me at a window, with Adèle by my side, and himself to watch the Bedchamber until the moment should come.

The night was most black and still, and I stood leaning out into the thunderous air, straining my ears for the rustle of a rope coming down.⁠ ⁠…

But none came: and, after a long time, I began to feel sick at heart.

I did not move, for the night was before us, and while it was dark we could hope: but Hanbury was always punctual⁠—and now he was late.⁠ ⁠…

I do not know how long I stood there, but suddenly my heart bounded as I heard a movement above.

An instant later I had a rope in my hands.⁠ ⁠…

As I put my weight upon it, another rope brushed my arms, and almost at once, a third.

By my silent direction, Adèle gave one flash with her torch and, in a twinkling, Mansel was by our side.

Himself he tested the ropes: then he bound one about her and lifted her on to the sill.

Adèle put her arms round his neck and pressed her face against his.

So we stayed, waiting.⁠ ⁠…

Then came a clatter from the passage and the shiver of broken glass.

“My beautiful darling,” said Mansel, and swung her out of the window and into the night.

For a second he watched her rising: then he drew back.

“You next, William,” he said; “as quick as you can.”

At once I leaned out to grope for the other two ropes.

As I did so, a second clatter came from beyond our doors.

“Quick,” breathed Mansel. “That demonstration’s too thin.”

Desperately I flung out both arms, sweeping the air⁠—and found nothing.

“They’re gone,” I cried, drawing back. “They were⁠—”

Mansel was at the next window, leaning out and craning his neck.

As I did the same, a very faint exclamation came down from above.

And then a thick laugh.

“Isn’t that nice?” said Rose Noble.