When Wenzel set Imre upon his feet again, the old man turned to him. "That was clever," he said simply. At last they reached the roof, and crossed to where the gallows stood awaiting its victim. Imre shuddered. The long length of rope with its running noose, the noose which was never to tighten, was there, prepared. Wenzel observed the fact grimly. It was for this that he had come. He stepped forward and pulled the rope from the supports, and having untied the noose estimated the length. "Seventeen feet," he surmised, "a drop of from four or five feet, allowing for tying." Turning to Imre he asked: "Is there a direct way from here to the battlements on the right, or must we descend to the courtyard and cross?" "No; there is an exterior staircase--a modern innovation. My own, as a matter of fact." "Huh! It may save your life." Wenzel laughed shortly. "You scarcely foresaw this when you had it built?" "God forbid!" A few seconds later they were on the battlements at the spot where Wenzel had climbed scarcely an hour ago. He formed his lips into a circle, and a hoot of an owl rang through the quiet night, to be echoed from below. Wenzel turned to Imre: "Listen carefully to my instructions. I shall drop you by means of this rope to where my friend stands below. It is five feet short. When it reaches its capacity I shall tug it twice. Then you must untie yourself and drop. When you meet my friend you and he must go at once to the nearest village. Afterwards Terhune--my lieutenant--will know what to do. You understand? You must set off at once." "But--but my daughter?" There was a rasp in Wenzel's voice when he answered: "You must obey me." It did not take a moment to fix the rope round Imre's waist. Afterward the old man climbed over the parapet, and Wenzel commenced to lower him. Foot by foot the hemp passed through his hands till it came to the end. He lifted it slightly and lowered it. Then he raised it again for the second tug, and a calamity occurred. The rasping fibre bit into his tender hand, where it suddenly scraped a nerve. Involuntarily his hand unclasped--and Imre dropped, the rope with him. The loss of it was a blow: Wenzel had been relying on it to let down Elizabeth and himself. But there was no time to waste in vain regrets. It was more than possible Grocz might send down further insulting messages to his prisoner, and once the escape was discovered it would be awkward for both the girl and himself unless they were away by then. Awaiting only Arnold's signal that Imre was safe, Wenzel commenced cautiously to feel his way to the roof and back again to the stairs which led into the castle. He had learned from Imre the position of Elizabeth's room and now he made his way toward it. There was no one about. Still more fortunate proved the fact that the key was in the door. He unlocked it and entered.