e
vaulted archway through the walls was about sixteen feet long by ten
wide and as many high. At the street end it was closed by a gate
consisting of two wooden leaves, swung on hinges in the ordinary manner,
and having as a central support a stout post firmly sunken into the
ground. The timber construction was of the heaviest, but axe and sledge
would make short work of it could they be brought near enough for
effective use.

At the inner entrance to the archway was suspended a portcullis of
wrought-iron bars. This was the real barrier, for, even if the attacking
party succeeded in battering down the outer gate, they would find
themselves cooped up in the passageway and exposed to missiles
discharged both through the grating and from trap-doors in the vaulted
ceiling. A well-conceived theory of defence, but its present practice
was complicated by an unexpected difficulty--the portcullis, long
unused, had become jammed in the ways and refused to descend. A squad of
men were sweating at the task, but so far they had accomplished nothing.

"You are right," said Constans, letting the glass fall and turning to
Piers Minor. "What can they be thinking of--wasting time in that
hopeless tinkering? The one important thing is to close the
passageway--if possible, by means of the portcullis; failing that, to
block it up. If Piers Major but knew--nay, he _must_ know."

Piers Minor nodded; he understood the appeal.

"I am going to tell him," he said, imperturbably. "I will be careful
about keeping out of sight until well away from the vicinity of the
'Flat-iron.' So as not to spoil sport for you," he added, smiling.

Constans accompanied Piers Minor to the street entrance, going over in
detail the message that he was to bear to his father. A final admonition
of caution, and they parted. It was still broad daylight, and Constans
returned to his post of observation.

Of course, the expected happened. A report of the portcullis's
unserviceable condition had been finally made to Quinton Edge, and
already he was on the scene--a master indeed. The confusion, the
contradictory babel of voices, dies away into order and silence, and, as
Constans had foreseen, his orders were to suspend operations on the
portcullis and proceed with all speed to the blocking-up of the archway.
Choked to the ceiling with loose stones and other debris, it would be a
formidable barricade to carry by assault.

Constans strode up and down the room, devoured