With the air of a man who knows his business, Firebrace led the way along the narrow pathway for about twenty paces. Here a flight of stone steps afforded a descent to the ground, while but three yards away rose the outlines of a detached building. "'Tis the Great Hall--His Majesty's apartments," whispered the page, as we gained the level of the basecourt. "Watch yonder window." We had not long to wait, for the hour of twelve was striking. Everything was perfectly still, and though a light gleamed through a window in the gatehouse, there were no signs of any of the guards. Presently there came the sound of a casement being cautiously opened, and we could see a white face looking down between the bars of a window on the first floor. Instantly we uncovered, then expectantly awaited His Majesty's appearance. The end of a stout rope fell at our feet, and then the head of our royal master emerged betwixt the bars of the window. For a brief space we waited in suspense. Then---- "I am stuck fast!" exclaimed the King in a low voice. "Nay, sire," said the page. "Where Your Majesty's head passes through, your body will surely follow." "Nay, I repeat, I cannot move either forward or backward," said the King, with a long-drawn groan, wrung from him by the result of his exertions. Whilst he stuck I heard him groan again and again; yet we could not come to help him, even though Dixon climbed the rope, and grasping the bars with his hands, tried in vain to wrench them asunder--at the risk of his neck had the iron given way suddenly. In five minutes the attempt was at an end, for His Majesty, using the cord to force his way back into the room, succeeded in freeing himself from the embraces of the iron bars. Then, having suffered the devoted captain to kiss his hand, he retired; whereupon Dixon, muttering softly under his breath at our impotence, slid softly to earth. For a few moments more we waited beneath the window. Why we tarried I know not, unless we thought that some miracle would bring our royal master to our side. Then his room became illuminated, and bearing a candle in his hand (which he set in the window as a prearranged sign that he had abandoned the attempt, though we knew to our cost that such was the case already), the King stood before the window, the light shining on his classic features. As if in final benediction, he raised his right hand in token of farewell, then, as we brought our swords to the salute, he disappeared from view. 'Twas fated to be the last glimpse I had of the face of the Royal Martyr. I was recalled to the danger of my position by Dixon's hand being laid on my shoulder, and regaining the wall, we slid down the rope to the moat, where we communicated the dismal news of our failure to our comrade. Then, descending the hill, we each selected a horse, and were soon galloping down the road to Newport. * * * * *