Giles ran up the turret-stairs whistling a tune. Then Dick slowly moved to the kitchen, saw bread and cold meat on the table, and flung himself upon it. Crossing the hall in the dark, wondering whether to go to bed or not, he hesitated, listening. Overhead he heard the steady tramp of his lieutenant's feet on the leads. "He watches"--Dick thought,--"I won't go near him," and went to his room. He lay down to sleep in his clothes, but woke very soon and sat up. He must get up and see what the enemy were doing. In his stocking-feet he ran to the foot of the turret-stairs and listened. All was still overhead. "He's asleep," Dick thought, and crept up the steps softly. The door at the top was open, and close to it, on the leads, with his head on his arm, lay Giles. As Dick's head appeared in the opening, Giles turned over and fixed him with his eyes. "I--I--" Dick stammered clumsily. Giles rose to his feet and saluted. "Your honour wishes to look out?" he said, and moved aside. Dick brushed past him and looked over the battlements. He could see watch-fires blazing in the fields, and, in the half-lights, descried white tents--shadowy, vague, like phantom tents. In the night silence he could hear the sentries pacing up and down, up and down. A horse stamped, restless at its feed. A distant voice started a dreary psalm-tune, and other voices answered out of the shadows. Dick gazed and gazed, and behind him Giles stood, at ease but very silent; and Dick knew that he was looking at him, looking through him, with the gray eyes he had all but once found so friendly and so gay. At last Dick turned from the battlements, and, after several false attempts, succeeded in passing the tall figure of his officer with his head reasonably high. Giles saluted, and Dick passed, with the knowledge that Giles, in his fluttering rags, was immeasurably his superior, that he had fallen in the estimation of his stableman, and was regarded with serene contempt by a beggar off the king's highway. When he woke in the morning he was first thrilled with excitement at the call of a bugle outside, and then recalled the uncomfortable incident of yesterday, which had dashed the glory of Richard Chester, Baronet and Captain of Dent. "Never again," he said aloud, before rising, "never again will I even think of hitting a man in the back." "And, therefore," said a voice in the doorway behind him, "you will never say it any more than, I think, you would ever have done it." Dick sprang off the bed, and Giles--Giles with the old gray eyes--saluted with respect from the doorway. "I dare say I ought to have been shaken," Dick began simply, thinking aloud in a moment of excitement, "but--