“You’ll have Master Pawson on duty to-morrow night, so as to relieve one man, Ben,” said Roy, as he completed his round.
“Won’t relieve no man, sir,” said Ben, sourly. “I shall want one to watch that chap to see that he don’t do nothing foolish.”
“Ah, you’re prejudiced. But I say, Ben, suppose we were surprised, how long would it take us to man the walls?”
“Couldn’t surprise us, sir,” growled the old soldier. “First alarm, the men would be out of the rooms and up atop of the leads at the guns; and all the rest would make for the ramparts, ready to run to any spot that was attacked. We’re all right, sir, ’cept one thing.”
“What’s that?” cried Roy, anxiously.
“Old Jenk is worrying me, sir. He’s been wandering about the ramparts to-night in a curious, crazy way, speaking to nobody, and acting silly-like. I’m pretty sure it was him as cut that line and let down the flag.”
“I’ll talk to him to-morrow. Good-night till twelve, Ben. I’m tired, and shall be glad of my rest.”
“Good-night till twelve, captain,” said the old soldier; and Roy went to his room, took off helmet and sword-belt, and threw himself upon a couch, to forget all his low spirits and troubles in less than a minute, falling at once into a deep sleep, from which he started at the first chime of the tower clock.
The little lamp was burning dimly now on the mantelpiece, but it gave him light enough to buckle on his sword; and as he did so, the chiming and striking of the midnight hour went on in the midst of what seemed an unnatural silence, which impressed him. The next moment his helmet was on, and he stepped quickly out into the corridor, to find it full of armed men, four of whom dashed at him as his hand flew to his side, and he drew his sword.
It was a vain effort; his arms were roughly grasped, and the cry he tried to raise was smothered by a hand pressed upon his mouth; while, by the light of a lantern raised on high, he saw the figure of the secretary, who stepped forward and took the sword wrenched from his hand.