At the top of these steps was a massive stone slab, balanced on a heavy iron pivot, while two strong bolts kept it in position, so that it could not be moved, save from the side on which we were. Remembering that extreme caution was necessary, we carefully withdrew the bolts, and slowly pushed the stone, Without a sound, the whole slab turned easily on its pivot, and, to my great surprise, I found that we were looking into a building, while my astonishment was even greater when I discovered it was none other than Chalton Church! Many a time had I noticed a large tomb in one corner of the church, with a brass showing the effigy of a knight with his legs crossed at the knees and his feet resting on a lion, while I had often tried to decipher the almost illegible writing, "Ci gist..." But up to that very moment I had not the faintest idea, nor had anyone else in or around Chalton, I feel certain, that the tomb was in reality not a tomb, but the egress from a secret tunnel from Ashley Castle. It was a tedious struggle to worm our bodies through the narrow slit; especially so was it with the wounded men, and deep groans involuntarily rose from their lips as we literally dragged their helpless forms through the aperture. At length we succeeded, and as we closed the movable slab we heard a faint click. The bolts on the inside had by some ingenious mechanism slipped back into their places, and the exit from the underground passage was firmly closed. Nothing short of the demolition of the spurious tomb would ever reveal the secret tunnel. Fortunately, the church was deserted, and no one had witnessed our appearance; not that any of the villagers would have betrayed us, for they were stamped with unswerving loyalty, but for the benefit of those who were to inhabit Ashley Castle at some future date (for I had a presentiment that a new castle would rise phoenix-like from the scorched ruins of the old) it was undesirable that the secret should be public property. I then addressed the sorry remnant of my faithful garrison once more, urging them to return as quickly and secretly to their homes as they were able, and requested them honourably to preserve the secret of their means of escape. This they promised most readily to do, and after telling the men, ere they set out for their homes, to take their wounded comrades across to the Red Lion till they should recover--for Master Anthony, the worthy host, was as staunch a Royalist as could be found in Hamptonshire--I bade them farewell. Then, accompanied by Firestone and Ralph, I crossed the little green, and entered this inn, where I made arrangements for the accommodation of the wounded, forcing Master Anthony, much against his wish, to accept a sum of money to recompense horn for his assistance.