Ben gave his head a punch.

"No, sir; and yet I think of it every night just before I go off to sleep. It ought to be done, for it's of no use to keep polishing up a pot that's got a big hole somewhere in the bottom."

"Of course it is not," said Roy. "Look here; when will you begin to search?"

"Let's. .h.i.t while the iron's hot; sir, eh? You and I will go round and visit all the sentinels to-night, and then, as we shall have a lantern, we'll begin."

"Where?"

"Down under the north-west tower, sir."

"And ask Master Pawson to go with us?"

"Nay, sir; we'll keep it all to ourselves."

"But he will hear us about the steps, and opening and shutting doors."

"But he mustn't, sir. I'll oil all the locks and the keys I have, and we must smuggle our light under a big cloak. No, sir, we don't want Master Pawson with us; let him study his chirurgery and sewing of cuts, and stopping up bullet-holes. That'll do for him. This is a job for the castellan and his head-sergeant, sir; and, if you'll take my advice, that's the order for the night."

"Very well, Ben; that is the order for the night."

"One word, sir. How is my lady getting on with the flag? That old one is so tender like, I'm afraid it'll blow to pieces first time it's hoisted."

"Getting on splendidly."

"Big as the old one, sir?"

"Half as big again, Ben."

"That'll do, sir. I believe in a big flag. It gives the men courage, and bullies the enemy. Now I really do begin to feel as if I could breathe."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE Pa.s.sAGE THAT IS TOO SECRET.

"Going, Roy?" said Lady Royland to her son, as he rose from his seat in the library that night about an hour after Master Pawson had gone to his room, retiring early on the plea of a bad headache.

"Yes, mother; I'm going my rounds."

Lady Royland sighed.

"It seems very hard on you, my boy--all this work and watching."

"Oh, I don't mind," said the lad, smiling; "I've got used to it already.

It makes everything go so regularly, and I feel sure that I have done everything to make the place safe."

"But it is hard upon the sentries, who, but for this, would be peacefully sleeping in their beds."

"Do us all good, mother. Good-night."

There was an affectionate embrace, and Roy went to his room, buckled on his sword, put on his helmet, threw a large cloak over his shoulders, and then went down to the guard-room door in the great lower gate-way, to be challenged at once, and forced to give the word.

A faint light shone out from the open door upon the military figure on duty, and Roy recognised in him one of the men from the mill, completely transformed from the heavy plodding fellow who had come in to take service.

But the challenge had brought out the old sergeant, also in a cloak, although it was a hot night, and within it he swung a lighted lantern.

The drawbridge was up and the portcullis down, making the entrance look black and strange, and shutting off the outer gate, from which the day guard was withdrawn, though this had not been accomplished without trouble and persuasion, for old Jenkin had protested.

"Like giving up the whole castle to the enemy, Master Roy," he said, with a full sense of the importance of his little square tower, and quite ignoring the fact that in the event of trouble he would be entirely cut off from his fellows if the drawbridge was raised.

But the old man gave in.

"Sodger's dooty is to 'bey orders," he said; and with the full understanding that he was to go back to his gate in the morning, he came into the guard-room to sleep on a bench every night.

"How is old Jenk?" said Roy.

"Fast asleep in his reg'lar place," replied Ben, and he led the way back into the gloomy stone guard-room, where he held up the lantern over the venerable old fellow's face, and Roy looked at him thoughtfully.

"Seems hard to understand it, Master Roy, don't it?" said Ben; "but if we lives, you and me'll grow to be as old as that. I expect to find some morning as he's gone off too fast ever to wake up again."

"Poor old fellow!" said Roy, laying his gloved band gently on the grey head. "How fond he always was of getting me to his room when I could only just toddle, and taking me to the moat to throw bread to the carp."

"Fished you out one day, didn't he, Master Roy!"

"To be sure, yes; I had almost forgotten that. I had escaped from the nurse and tumbled in."

"Ah! he's been a fine old fellow," said Ben. "I used to think he was a great worry sticking out for doing this and doing that, when he wasn't a bit of good and only in the way; but somehow, Master Roy, I began to feel that some day I might be just as old and stupid and no more use, and that made me fancy something else."

"What was that, Ben?" said Roy, for the old soldier had paused.

"Well, sir, I began to think that I was growing into a vain old fool after all, or else I should have seen that old Jenk was perhaps of more use here than I am. Can't you see, Master Roy?"

"I can't see what you mean, Ben."

"Why, that old chap's about the finest sample of a reg'lar soldier that these young fellows can have. I believe if the enemy did come, that old man would draw the sword that shakes in his weak old hand, and march right away to meet 'em as bravely as the best here."

"I'm sure he would, Ben," said Roy, warmly.

"Then he's one of our best men still, sir. Come on--I mean give the order, sir, and let's go our rounds."

Then, in the silence of the dark night, Roy led the way to the winding stair, and mounted silently to the ramparts, closely followed by Ben with the blinded lantern, and on reaching the top, they walked on to the left to the south-west tower; but before they could reach it a firm voice challenged them from the top. Then after giving the pa.s.s they went on through the tower and out onto the western ramparts, turning now to where the north-west tower loomed up all in darkness.

"Master Pawson's abed, sir," whispered Ben.

"Yes; not well," was the reply, in the same low tone.

But there was no challenge from here, and Roy walked silently in at the arched door-way, pa.s.sed the secretary's door, and mounted the stair to severely admonish the sentry who was not keenly on the alert.