All this while I lay flatten’d along the beam, scarce daring to breathe. But at length, when the man had pass’d below for the sixth time, I found heart to wriggle myself toward the doorway over which the gallows protruded. By slow degrees, and pausing whenever the fellow drew near, I crept close up to the wall: then, waiting the proper moment, cast my legs over, dangled for a second or two swinging myself toward the sill, flung myself off, and, touching the ledge with one toe, pitch’d forward in the room. The effect of this was to give me a sound crack as I struck the flooring, which lay about a foot below the level of the sill. I pick’d myself up and listen’d. Outside, the regular tramp of the sentry prov’d he had not heard me; and I drew a long breath, for I knew that without a lantern he would never spy, in the darkness, the telltale rope dangling from the tower. In the room where I stood all was right. But the flooring was uneven to the foot, and scatter’d with small pieces of masonry. ’Twas one of the many chambers in the castle that had dropp’d into disrepair. Groping my way with both hands, and barking my shins on the loose stones, I found a low vaulted passage that led me into a second chamber, empty as the first. To my delight, the door of this was ajar, with a glimmer of light slanting through the crack. I made straight toward it, and pull’d the door softly. It open’d, and show’d a lantern dimly burning, and the staircase of the keep winding past me, up into darkness. My chance was, of course, to descend: which I did on tiptoe, hearing no sound. The stairs twisted down and down, and ended by a stout door with another lamp shining above it. After listening a moment I decided to be bold, and lifted the latch. A faint cry saluted me. I stood face to face with the jailer’s daughter. The room was a small one, well lit, and lin’d about the walls with cups and bottles. ’Twas, as I guess’d, a taproom for the soldiers: and the girl had been scouring one of the pewter mugs when my entrance startled her. She stood up, white as if painted, and gasp’d— “Quick—quick! Down here behind the counter for your life!” There was scarce time to drop on my knees before a couple of troopers loung’d in, demanding mull’d beer. The girl bustled about to serve them, while the pair lean’d their elbows on the counter, and in this easy attitude began to chat. “A shrewd night!” “Aye, a very freezing frost! Lucky that soldiering is not all sentry work, or I for one ‘ud ensue my natural trade o’ plumbing. But let’s be cheerful: for the voice o’ the turtle is heard i’ the land.” “Hey?” The man took a pull at his hot beer before explaining. “The turtle signifieth the Earl o’ Stamford, that is to-night visiting Colonel Essex in secret: an’ this is the import—war, bloody war. Mark me.” “Stirring, striving times!” “You may say so! ’A hath fifteen thousand men, the Earl, no farther off than Taunton—why, my dear, how pale you look, to be sure!”