Three hours later a boyish figure scaled the wall and dropped into the sunken way. Fangs, who was sunning herself on the terrace, looked up with white teeth bared, then rose, wagging her tail in friendly greeting. But Nanna, with a hasty word to the dog, entered the house and ran up to Esmay's room. Great news indeed! But where was the child? Nanna stood stock-still, gazing stupidly around the empty room. "Esmay," she murmured, in a half-whisper, and passed out into the corridor. She went straight to the door leading to Quinton Edge's apartments. A tiny hair-pin of tortoise-shell lay on the floor. Nanna picked it up with a sob and regarded it fixedly. She knocked twice upon the door, but there was no response. She tried her strength against it, and shook her head. Nothing could be done here. She went down-stairs, and looked to see if the key of the wicket gate was hanging in its accustomed place behind the master's leather chair. It was there; she took it and let herself into the street. There was only Fangs, the great, black bitch, to watch her go, the dog whining and leaping upon the wicket gate as it swung back into place. XXIV THE EVE OF THE THIRD DAY A touch upon Constans's shoulder and a voice in his ear aroused him. He sprang to his feet; the sunshine was streaming through the glazeless casements, and Constans, being yet heavy with sleep, blinked against it as a man drunken with wine. Oxenford confronted him. "The attack?" questioned Constans, and for the life of him could not help yawning prodigiously. Red Oxenford laughed. "In that case I should have pulled your ear off instead of wasting time shouting into it. By the thunders of God, man, but you sleep soundly." Constans was fully awake now. He glanced at the sun, which was high in the sky, and then at Oxenford's gaunt face. "I have left you to do the watching alone," he said, apologetically. "What matter?" was the indifferent answer. "For me slumber would not have meant forgetfulness, and the watching made the waiting so much the easier." Constans stood by the window looking across the Citadel Square and directly up the Palace Road. "I see no sign of Piers Major," he said at length. "Down in the square," replied Oxenford, laconically. In truth there was a most unusual activity pervading the stronghold of the Doomsmen. Already the long rows of guard-huts were tenanted by a throng of women and children, and the number was being constantly reinforced by fresh arrivals. Guards were pacing the walls, and a squad of the younger men were engaged in setting up the artillery machines for hurling stones so as to command the open space in front of the north gate. New ropes were being fitted to the torsion levers, and an ox-cart loaded with ammunition, in the shape of rounded boulders, creaked noisily through the gateway. "The warning must have come down from the High Bridge at an early hour," said Constans, thoughtfully. "How long has all this been going on?"