square. Stepping into one of the empty
guard-huts he quickly divested himself of cowl and cassock, and rolling
them up into a bundle he tossed them into a dark corner. His under suit
was made of the ordinary gray frieze worn generally among the Doomsmen,
and now neither Prosper nor the witnesses of the fracas at the gate
would be likely to identify him.

Constans gazed about him with lively interest. Yet so accurate had been
his previous bird's-eye observations that he found but little to add to
them. He noticed, however, that a banquette of earth, rammed hard, ran
around the inside periphery of the walls, affording vantage for the
defenders to discharge their arrows and other missiles over the parapet.
But, as Constans quickly saw, this same terrace would give useful
foothold to the besiegers should once the top of the wall be gained.
Instead of being obliged to draw up their scaling-ladders, or risk the
sixteen-foot drop to the hard surface of the enclosure, they had only to
jump onto the banquette and from thence to the ground. He would have
liked to investigate what engines of defence could be brought into
service by the garrison, but there was nothing to be seen beyond two
machines, sadly out of repair, which were intended for the casting of
heavy stones through the force of twisted ropes. So Constans turned his
attention again to the scene before him.

A gang of carpenters were putting the finishing-touches to an elevated
platform which stood near the entrance to the White Tower. A crimson
canopy warded off the sun's rays, and the structure was probably
intended for the accommodation of the more distinguished guests. A large
chair stood in the centre of the dais, and over it a gray wolf-skin had
been draped; certainly this must be the official seat of Dom Gillian
himself. But as yet it stood empty.

How hot the sun was! And yet this was only the day of the vernal
equinox; it was most extraordinary. Everywhere the gutters ran streaming
with water, the snow melting under the unexampled heat of the solar rays
like wax in a candle flame. The trees growing in the square were
leafless, and the tropic sun's rays blazed mercilessly through their
naked branches. Constans found himself panting for breath.

As the hours dragged on Constans felt a vague uneasiness pressing down
upon him, and he could see that the people also were growing restless
under the unaccountable delay. The laughter and talk little by little
died a