"The hounds are thrown off the scent," the prince said. "It will need a clever huntsman to put them on it. What will they do next, I wonder?"
Some time passed, and then Harry exclaimed:
"I perceive a smell of something burning, your royal highness."
"Peste! methinks I do also," the prince said. "I had not thought of that. If these rascals have set fire to the place we shall be roasted alive here."
A slight wreath of smoke was seen curling up through the crevice of the tightly-fitting stone.
"We will leap out, and die sword in hand," the prince said; and seizing the ring, he and Harry pulled at it. Ere they raised the stone an inch, a volume of dense smoke poured up, and they at once dropped it into its place again, feeling that their retreat was cut off. The prince put his sword in its scabbard.
"We must die, my lad," he said. "A strange death, too, to be roasted in a trap. But after all, whether by that or the thrust of a Roundhead sword makes little difference in the end. I would fain have fallen in the field, though."
"Perhaps," Harry suggested, "the fire may not reach us here. The walls are very thick, and the chamber below is empty."
The prince shook his head.
"The heat of the fire in a house like this will crack stone walls," he said.