Sir Richard divined that the answer to the guard's question must have been a favorable one, for he at once got up from off the trap-door, after which he could hear his heavy steps dwindling in the distance along the runway.
"'Twould agree passing well with the good fellow's health to drink him a gallon of it," de Claverlok whispered as he stepped out into the night and unsheathed his sword. "God's sake! Dreaming of a quaking earth were enough to set a man at tipple, ... eh?"
To knot and make the rope secure around the crenelated apex of the tower was but the work of a moment.
"Go!" Sir Richard whispered. "When the rope swings free I'll be after you."
Immediately de Claverlok's grizzled head disappeared over the side of the embattlements. Sir Richard looked down, watching him as he diminished and became swallowed up in the surrounding gloom. He kept a firm grip of the hilt of his blade against the possibility of the guard's inopportune return.
He waited till he thought enough time had elapsed for de Claverlok to have set his foot upon the frozen moat. He laid his hand upon the rope. It was still taut, and vibrating with the warrior's downward scrambling.
Then, though Sir Richard had heard no sound, a soft arm was suddenly entwined about his waist. A softer voice was whispering close to his ear.
"Shame upon you, Dick, to requite me thus!" it said. "Are you indeed upon the point of leaving me?"
It was Lady Anna. Warm, bewitching, clad in a silken robe, all open at the throat, and loose and light and clinging.
"Yea, Lady Anna, I am going. Let loose of me," Sir Richard said.