“A lantern!” groaned Martin in a whisper. “They are after us.” “Give me my knife,” whispered Gerard. “I'll never be taken alive.” “No, no!” murmured Margaret; “is there no way out where we are?” “None! none! But I carry six lives at my shoulder;” and with the word, Martin strung his bow, and fitted an arrow to the string: “in war never wait to be struck: I will kill one or two ere they shall know where their death comes from:” then, motioning his companions to be quiet he began to draw his bow, and, ere the arrow was quite drawn to the head, he glided round the corner ready to loose the string the moment the enemy should offer a mark. Gerard and Margaret held their breath in horrible expectation: they had never seen a human being killed. And now a wild hope, but half repressed, thrilled through Gerard, that this watchful enemy might be the burgomaster in person. The soldier, he knew, would send an arrow through a burgher or burgomaster, as he would through a boar in a wood. But who may foretell the future, however near? The bow, instead of remaining firm, and loosing the deadly shaft, was seen to waver first, then shake violently, and the stout soldier staggered back to them, his knees knocking and his cheeks blanched with fear. He let his arrow fall, and clutched Gerard's shoulder. “Let me feel flesh and blood,” he gasped. “The haunted tower! the haunted tower!” His terror communicated itself to Margaret and Gerard. They gasped rather than uttered an inquiry. “Hush!” he cried, “it will hear you up the wall! it is going up the wall! Its head is on fire. Up the wall, as mortal creatures walk upon green sward. If you know a prayer, say it, for hell is loose to-night.” “I have power to exorcise spirits,” said Gerard, trembling. “I will venture forth.” “Go alone then,” said Martin; “I have looked on't once, and live.” CHAPTER XI The strange glance of hatred the burgomaster had cast on Gerard, coupled with his imprisonment, had filled the young man with a persuasion that Ghysbrecht was his enemy to the death, and he glided round the angle of the tower, fully expecting to see no supernatural appearance, but some cruel and treacherous contrivance of a bad man to do him a mischief in that prison, his escape from which could hardly be known. As he stole forth, a soft but brave hand crept into his; and Margaret was by his side, to share this new peril. No sooner was the haunted tower visible, than a sight struck their eyes that benumbed them as they stood. More than halfway up the tower, a creature with a fiery head, like an enormous glowworm, was steadily mounting the wall: the body was dark, but its outline visible through the glare from the head, and the whole creature not much less than four feet long. At the foot of the tower stood a thing in white, that looked exactly like the figure of a female. Gerard and Margaret palpitated with awe. “The rope! the rope! It is going up the rope,” gasped Gerard.