“Better than being soaked with blood, sir,” said the sergeant in a low, deep voice, and he ran to the windows.
“There’s a fellow somewhere, my lads,” he cried. “Yes, yes; search the roof-terrace,” cried Wyatt. Then, as the men made for the staircase, he turned to Dick. “I beg your pardon, old lad,” he whispered; “but are you sure you are not hurt?”
“Only wrenched about and stiff. I shall have a nice lot of bruises about me.”
“Never mind the bruises; get your pistols,” said Wyatt.—“Tell them to fire, Stubbs, if they see the brute and he doesn’t give in.”
“Yes, sir; but I don’t see how he could have got here. No one could pass the gate, and it’s impossible from outside without a ladder.”
“Then whoever it was must have used a ladder,” said Wyatt, who was busily loading the pistols. “Off with you, Stubbs, with half-a-dozen men, and go round outside. But I expect he has made his escape by now.”
Lights were seen on the fortified roof, the men having started from the gate-tower in both directions, careful search being made till they met and crossed, each party searching the place in turn, while the examination was going on below; and this went on for an hour, and long after Stubbs had carefully examined all round outside.
“It’s lucky for him,” said Wyatt at last.—“There, dismiss the men, Stubbs; but double the guard, though there’s not likely to be another attempt to-night. And I say, you might say a word or two—not coming from me—about the smart way in which the lads turned out on the alarm.”
“If you wish it, sir, I will,” said Stubbs, frowning.
“Well, why not?”