"But this is too kind, señor! Indeed, I shall take no hurt in the corridor. I should not like to trespass into your garden," Beauvallet said. "No trespass, señor. Consider it agreed upon. I am held responsible for your well-being, and I am assured his Majesty is anxious to make this unfortunate time as pleasant for you as maybe. Is there aught else I may do for you?" Beauvallet seemed to consider. He drew some coins from his pocket, and looked at them with a grimace. "Lay that fellow of mine by the heels, señor, and I shall be much your debtor. But I believe I have enough to buy me some few things. Of your kindness, señor, some book to help while away the time. I do not know whether I am permitted to write to my friends?" Don Cristobal hesitated, "With the greatest reluctance, señor, I should feel myself bound to glance at any messages you may wish to send out of this place." "Oh, you may read all my papers with my very goodwill," Sir Nicholas told him. "I will send you some ink, then, and paper," Don Cristobal promised, and withdrew. Upon the following morning Beauvallet was escorted to the Governor's quarters, by the stairway he had gone down the day before, and through the door he had noticed on the opposite side of the arched gateway. This led into a large hall, furnished very richly with fine hangings and chairs of Italian _intarsia_ work. Across the hall a door gave on to a walled garden, shaded by trees, and through this they went. Beyond the wall Sir Nicholas judged that there was a street as on his opposite side of the building. The wall was high, but rough upon the inner side, with one or two espaliers trained up it. If a man had the help of a rope he might make shift to scale that wall; at a pinch he might make the attempt without assistance, but with indifferent hope of success. There seemed to be no other way into the garden than through this one door. Sir Nicholas studied the outside of the building closely. Here were no barred windows, and the side of the house was grown over with a thick wisteria. A man penetrating into one of the upper rooms on this side of the building might climb down the wall by the aid of that wistaria--if it held. So much Sir Nicholas decided; it was little enough. He went back presently to his prison and sat down by the window to write an innocent letter to his Andalusian acquaintance. It might have been noticed that the Chevalier nearly always sat by the window, and very often stood looking out on to the street. His guards made nothing of that. There was little enough to see in the street, but the poor gentleman had nothing else to interest him, to be sure, until the Governor sent him a selection of books to read. Even then a gentleman cannot be reading all the day.