necessity for the greater caution, Scarlett stepped slowly
and carefully among the broken fragments till he had passed the risky
spot, and then hurried on as rapidly as he could till he reached the
steps, and, mounting them cautiously, he stood once more in the chamber.

Feeling rapidly about, he uttered a cry of joy, for his hand touched his
father's brow; and as it did so, he felt it raised by the burning
fingers of the sufferer, who began talking quickly.

"Quick! Which way did they go--Lady Markham--my child Lilian? Why do
you not speak? Tell me; they are not in the burning house?"

"Father! don't you know my voice?" whispered Scarlett.

"Know your voice--know you? Yes, yes, my boy. Scar, lad, help me.
They must be somewhere here. I am looking for them. Yes, somewhere in
the house."

"No, no, father; they are in safety down at the Manor."

"Here, I tell you, sir. Help me to find them. Quick! They are in the
burning house and Scar, my boy, is that you?"

Then, seeming to drop off to sleep as his son knelt by him, there was a
sigh or two, and then he was breathing regularly, although the
inspirations sounded faint and low.

Scarlett could contain himself no longer, but, rising from his knees, he
hurried down the few steps and along the lower passage, pausing for a
moment before stealing carefully beneath the broken portion of the
arched tunnel. For there could be no doubt about the matter: there was
a rustling sound somewhere above that did not seem such as would be made
by any wild animals likely to haunt the forest, and a certainty was
given to his ideas by a low-muttering arising, followed by a hasty
ejaculation as of impatience or pain.

So near did this sound, that Scarlett remained motionless in the
obscurity of the tunnel arch, afraid to stir for quite an hour, during
which he listened, feeling assured that this opening had been discovered
by the enemy, and that they had placed a sentry there to trap any one
who attempted to escape.

"Oh!" ejaculated Scarlett at last, softly, as what he believed to be
enlightenment flashed across his brain. "Why did I not think of that
before? Fred Forrester, of course! He remembered our discovery, and he
has explained all to his father, with the result that there are
sentinels all about, waiting to take every poor wounded wretch who seeks
to escape."

It was a painful thought, for it troubled him to think that Fred had
been so unprincipled as to betr