ces away. With great body bowed forward and hairy fingers crooked,
Walkyn stole upon him; six paces he went, ten--twenty--twenty-five--
the soldier ceased his humming, stood erect and turned about; and
Walkyn leapt--bore him backward down into the shadow--a shadow wherein
their bodies writhed and twisted silently awhile. When Walkyn rose out
of the shadow and beckoned them on.

So, following ever the friar's lead, they came to a narrow doorway
that gave upon a small guard-room lighted by a smoking torch socketed
to the wall. The place was empty, save for a medley of arms stacked in
corners, wherefore, treading cautiously, the friar led them a-down a
narrow passage and so to a second and larger chamber where burned a
fire of logs. Upon the walls hung shining head-pieces; cloaks and
mantles lay where they had been flung on bench and floor, but none was
there to give them let or hindrance. Then Friar Martin took a torch
that smoked near by, and, crossing to the hearth, reached down a massy
key from the wall, and with this in his hand, came to a door half
hidden in a corner, beyond which were steps that wound downwards into
the dark, a darkness close and dank, and heavy with corruption.

But on went the friar--his torch lighting the way--down and ever down
until they trod a narrow way 'twixt reeking walls, where breathed an
air so close and foul the very torch languished. At length the friar
stopped before a mighty door, thick-banded with iron bars and with
massy bolts, and while Beltane held the torch, he fitted key to lock
and thereafter the great door swung on screaming hinge and showed a
dungeon beyond--a place foul and noisome, where divers pale-faced
wretches lay or crouched, blinking in the torch's glare.

"What?" cried one, coming to his feet, a squat broad-shouldered man--
"be this the dawn so soon? Well, we be ready, better to hang i' the
clean air than rot in a dungeon, say I. So we be ready, eh, my
brothers?"

But now, some groaned and wept and others laughed, while yet others got
them to their knees, bowed of head and silent. Then went in the friar
to them and laid his hands upon the squat man's shoulder and spake him
gently.

"And is it Osric," said he. "Day is not yet, my son, nor with the day
shalt thou die nor any here, an ye be silent all and follow where we
lead, soft-footed, so will we bring you to God's good world again.
Rise, then, each one, speak nothing, but follow!"

So then did these men, sn