No. She must bring all her forces to the attack, and—and—Robert could not see her where she sat. She rose and stepped quietly into the deep glow of the moonlight, standing full before the gaze of her offended lover. She stood first with her back towards him, plucking nervously at the petals of a withered rose. Robert looked at the trim, white figure outlined against the darker trees, at the soft curve of the averted cheek. He looked and wavered. Suddenly she turned and faced him, standing before him in all the charm of her saucy beauty. She shook out her curls till the gold glistened in the moonlight, she turned her eyes full upon him, and she smiled, a smile full of mischievous invitation that lurked in her eyes and curved round her rosy dimpling lips. It was enough. Robert stared at her for a moment in silence, then he sprang towards her and seized her in his arms. "Ah, Prue, you witch! You witch!" he cried. "How could I resist thee? Say what you want, sweetheart. I will do it, aye, that I will." "Wilt thou really promise that, Rob?" she asked, nestling into his arms. "Aye, sweetheart." "Anything, Rob?" "Anything you ask," he answered, gazing into her eyes. "Then, oh, Rob; help Mistress Winslow to escape." He stared in astonishment. "What sayest thou? Prue! Prue! ’Tis impossible, ’Tis madness to dream on’t," he cried. "You promised to do anything I asked," she complained reproachfully, straining against his embrace. "Aye, sweetheart, so I will, so I will." He pledged himself rashly to keep her in his arms. "But this—— How is’t possible? Would you have me break into the castle and bear her out by force?" "She is not in the castle; she is lodged in one of the temporary sheds," corrected Prue reproachfully. "Well, ’tis the same thing, sweet. Gaol or shed, ’tis prison enow, and i’ faith, I see not how it be possible to fetch her out." "Pooh! What is the use of thy wits, Rob, if thou canst not get the better of father’s old wool-shed." "Master Lane’s shed, sayest thou?" "Aye, truly, she is there. Dad told me so this morning. The door bolted and barred, sentries in the street without, and many more in the guardhouse opposite. I saw them there last Sunday when I passed. But what of them. You can surely outwit such fudge-heads as they." "Master Lane’s shed," cried Robert again, a strange note of excitement in his voice. "Art certain she is there?" "Aye, certain, Rob. What then?" "Prue, who guards the little door in Blind Man’s alley?" Prue looked at him eagerly. "What door, Rob? I mind it not."