She slipped along the passage in front of him, and he followed with the candlestick.
“There,” said Miss Cochran, “this window.” She unlatched it, Ewen setting down the light at some distance. He saw the girl put her head out . . . and then draw back, her hand over her mouth as though to stifle a scream. “Too late, too late already! Look, look!”
Ewen leaned out. Down the dark alley, already echoing to the quick tramp of feet, a file of soldiers were advancing two by two, an officer leading. He drew in his head.
“Go back at once and warn the Prince, madam. I will stay a moment to watch. Blow out the light, if you please; I do not want them to see me.”
Obeying him, the girl fled, while Ewen, crouching by the open window, held his breath as the heavy, hasty footsteps drew nearer and nearer, and he was looking down at last on three-cornered hats and tilted bayonets. There were fully a score of soldiers, and they were stopping at Lady Easterhall’s entrance; he saw the officer raise a lantern to make sure of the door. Waiting no longer, he ran back along the passage and pelted down the stairs. “Saunders, Saunders!”
Fortunately the old man heard him at once and emerged from some lair of his own on the ground-floor. “What’s to do, sir?”
“There are soldiers from the Castle at the door. Don’t admit them, on your life! They are after . . . ‘Mr. Murray’. Is the door stout?”
“No’ by-ordinar’ stout. Dod, they’ll be for coming in; nae doot o’ that!” For a sword-hilt, it might have been, was clamouring on the door. “If I’m no’ tae open, they’ll ding the door doun!”
“Let them,” commanded Ewen. “’Twill take some time to do it. And remember, you know nothing at all about her ladyship’s visitors!”
He ran up again, thanking Heaven with all his heart for the secret passage and its exit in a spot where the redcoats would never dare to show their faces—since there was a Highland post in the West Bow also.