“Save your gratitude till the matter is accomplished,” quoth he. “We have first to make our way from the place.” This brought the child to his senses. “I know not how that may be done,” he faltered. “Castrano sleeps across the hall door. I have heard him snore as we passed the hall from the Temple. There is no other way out.” “Then we must make a way,” said Peregrine very cheerfully. “And first you must put on some clothes.” He found doublet, breeches, and hose lying on a chair; aided the boy with their donning. The child clad himself, ear alert, fearful of his own breathing. Long imprisonment he had borne with resignation: hope bringing life to his heart quickened it also to fear of hope frustrated. The boy garbed, the two slipped softly down the turret stair, careful of each footfall. Thence they gained Peregrine’s chamber. Here he made the bolt fast: this gave him, he felt, breathing space. “Since no exit can be made by the door,” he remarked, “we must e’en make it by the window. ’Tis somewhat narrow, but I have had my head through it more than once; and where a man’s head can pass, his body can certainly follow. You, I think, can go through it with ease.” Crossing to the bed he pulled a rough woollen blanket from below the bearskin. With the aid of a knife he proceeded to tear it into strips. These he knotted firmly. Mounting the table, he threw one end from the window measuring its length. “’Tis somewhat short,” he said peering downwards, “and ’twill mean a drop, but with luck no bones need be broken. First I will lower you, then make descent myself.” He hauled up the improvised rope. Making one end fast to the table, he knotted the other under the boy’s arms. “When I come down above you,” he said, “I must needs cut the rope below me, and let you fall. Get to your feet on the instant, and go some paces away, that I fall not on the top of you.” He helped the boy to the table, put him through the window. “You must trust me,” said Peregrine kindly. “Oh, I do!” replied the boy fervently. “Keep off the wall with your feet, an’ you can,” said Peregrine, and began to lower. The rope paid out to its fullest, Peregrine got to the window himself. On the ledge he dragged the table upwards, wedged it across the narrow opening. “Pray Heaven the rope bears us both,” he muttered. “There was no other way.” Feet braced against the wall he began the descent. To the child below it appeared an eternity before Peregrine’s foot touched his shoulder. “Ha!” said Peregrine. “Now prepare to drop.” Swinging by one arm he felt for the rope by his knees, and hacked. A moment’s work, and it gave. The boy rolled on the grass below, none the worse save for a slight jarring. “All well,” he whispered, scrambling away from the wall. Now Peregrine dropped lightly; was up in a moment but little shaken. He looked at the hanging rope. “Leaving traces of our flight behind us, we depart,” he said grimly.