Craning his neck to look up at it, Michael saw neither light nor sentinel, either in the Tower itself, or upon the high, adjacent wall. For none were needed. Sheer physical impassability guarded this bulwark turned prison, where there could be no thought of rescue or escape. The Berserkers themselves had not been able to storm its fastness, and they were five centuries gone and forgotten. Here at the last, Michael realized the full desperation of his scheme. It would take a near perfect throw to reach the upper windows with one of the projectiles in which he placed such hope. And as Stephen had said, they didn't even know which cell the women were in. He could not look at Purceville now, who surely must be sneering at his `faith' and naiveté. So there it was. To have come so far, and overcome such obstacles, only to be defeated in the end by cold, indifferent stone. His whole soul longed to cry out her name in passionate summons. . .but he dared not. For though the walls were blind, surely there were ears within to hear his desperation, and descend upon them like angry birds of prey. Feeling utterly lost, he lifted the great coil from his shoulders, and let it fall in a useless heap to the ground. And hung his head, unable for a time to continue. But when he raised it again, unvanquished, his eyes caught a gleam of something bright and solid in the grass, as for a moment the moon shone down clear and unobstructed. He moved closer, before the pale light could hide itself once more. Was it possible..... The ring! He lifted it gently, as if it were a thing of smoke which might dissolve upon his touch. But the slender band remained. "What is it?" asked Stephen. "A sign," replied the Highlander. And with these words all the hope and urgency of his task returned to him. "It is my mother's. . .it is Mary's ring, cast down as a marker from one of the cells above." He turned again to face the Tower, careful to stand in the exact spot where he had found it. "The way the windows are staggered, it could only have come from the uppermost story. Would that make sense, based on your knowledge of the Tower?" "Yes," said Stephen, understanding. "And it would suit my father's temperament as well. He'll have done everything possible to intimidate....." But Michael was no longer listening. Instead he ran with sudden resolution, back to the startled horse, and removed the saddlebags. Returning again, but this time not so close, he tried to gauge the height and distance exactly, then poured out his bundles on the ground. * * * The two women sat huddled together in fear, at the farthest point from the wretched, inadequate door. For as Ballard suspected, they had heard every word of the murderous doings beyond it, including Lord Purceville's promise that they would not live out the night.