"Easily. The alarm bell of the fortress stands on that roof, and there must of necessity be communication from the inside as well as from the outside. Besides all the other towers are so connected. Thou knowest that my lodging is the uppermost story of the Bloody Tower where tradition hath it that the two princes of York were murdered by Richard of Gloucester. I have found that between the outer wall of the Tower and the chamber there is a passage communicating with the top of the ballium wall to the west. Along that I will proceed until I reach the roof of the Bell Tower where I will make fast the rope for our descent. After we are down we must make use of our wits to pass the gate in the Byward Tower and so reach Tower wharf where friends will await us with a boat. There is no moon, and the darkness will favor the plan. There are secret passages which lead out of the Tower but these I have been unable to discover. They are known to but few and those few are incorruptible. The passage leading to my lodgings is all that I have knowledge of, and I had much ado to find that, and to obtain the rope." "But the sentinel, Edward? There is always one stationed by the bell." "Leave him to me, Francis," said Devereaux evasively. "Do you fear to adventure it?" "Nay, Edward. I rather rejoice at the opportunity for action." "Then await my coming. And to-night the die will be cast. Liberty and England, or imprisonment and death! All depends upon this throw. Do you fear, Francis?" "No;" answered she proudly. "I am no weakling that I should fear. Dost thou not know the motto of the Staffords: A l'outrance? (To the utmost) I am a Stafford. Therefore will I dare to the utmost." "Well said, mistress. If my courage fail me thou wilt inspire it anew. So fare you well until night." They parted, and Francis returned to her chamber to await the coming of the darkness with what patience she could. The hours went by on leaden wings. At last the portal leading to the roof was opened, and Edward Devereaux's voice sounded in a low whisper: "Francis!" "I am here," answered the girl thrilled by the call. "Then come!" Gladly she obeyed, and ascended the short flight of steps, and soon stood beside the form of Devereaux on the roof. "The sentinel," she whispered. "Lies there," and Devereaux pointed to a dark figure extended at full length beside the belfry. "Mind him not. We must hasten. Here is the rope. Descend, and loose not thine hold of it until thy feet have touched ground as thou lovest life. Remember the fate of Griffin of Wales."