"And what if he were, my lord?" rejoined Rumbold. "Lee is a lad of spirit, and exercises his right of private judgment." "Exactly," said Howard, with a dubious shrug. "He takes leave to call his soul his own. And that, of course, is all in this business. But how about his heart? You have a daughter, have you not, Master Hannibal?" "And what if I have, my lord?" said the maltster coldly. "Oh, no offence," carelessly returned Howard; "but she is a comely lass, they say. Quite a rustic beauty." "Beauty is skindeep, my lord. She is a good child." "And minds her doll," broke out Rumsey in a hoarse laugh. "Nay," said Rumbold in displeased tones, "my Ruth's doll-days are about over. But she minds her wheel; and meddles not in such matters as we are discussing--or should be discussing," he added, as the clock over their heads struck midnight. "Moments are precious." "And for my part," said Howard, this time with an unmistakable yawn, "I think we are misusing them odiously. There is a fortnight still before the king comes back from Newmarket; and between this and then all sorts of things may occur to change his plans." "What is to be, will be," said Rumbold solemnly. [Sidenote: A deep snore.] "Oh! that I grant you," said Lord Howard with a portentous yawn, glancing at the same time towards one of the window embrasures, whence issued a prolonged deep sound, not unlike the smothered growl of a wild beast, but which in fact emanated from the nose of Sheriff Goodenough, who lay back, lost in the enjoyment of a snatched forty winks. "That I grant you, and so seemingly does our good sheriff here; for he has yielded to the inevitable, and is snoring like a trooper. Shake him up, colonel," he added to Walcot, who stood close by, leaning against the panes, and gazing thoughtfully out into the night. "If you're not asleep yourself, that is." "Very far from it, my lord," answered Walcot, rousing up and approaching the table; "I was thinking that all being said and done, it is time to consider the measures for our safety. We don't want to be run down inside these four walls like a pack of weasels." [Sidenote: The subterranean way.] "By no means," said West; "we're going to burrow underground before we part to-night, for a good mile and a half through Master Hannibal's subterranean way. Aren't we captain? So as to make sure we don't blunder our heads into any wrong holes, when the time comes." "An excellent notion," said Howard with animation. "And a better night than this abominable Noah's deluge of a one could not be. 'Twill spare us wading like a flock of geese to--. By the way, where did you say it brings us out, captain?" "Into a large vault that lies under the right-hand tower of the ruined gatehouse of Nether Hall." "And near the river?" "Within a hundred yards of it." "And then 'Sauve qui peut,' I suppose." Rumbold inclined his head gravely.