“Need to lie still; it wouldn’t do to slip over backward. I shouldn’t even go into the moat, for I should come down on those stones.”
“Stupid to be in dangerous places,” he said to himself directly after, and, rolling over, he let himself down upon the broad seat-like place, where he could lie and watch the prospect just as well.
“Rather stupid of me not to come up here oftener,” he thought. “It’s a capital place. I will ask father to let me have all this old empty tower to myself. What’s that? A fight?”
For there was a sudden rush upward of jackdaws from where they had blackened the farthest corner tower to the left, and, looking in that direction as he lay, he saw the reason of the sudden whirr of wings and outburst of sharp, harsh cries, for there upon the leads, and holding on by the little turret which covered the door-way of the spiral staircase, stood Master Pawson.
“Feels like I do, I suppose,” thought Roy, as the secretary cast his eyes round the old building, particularly watchful of the pleasaunce, but keeping right back by the outer crenelles as if not wishing to be seen.
At first Roy felt that the secretary saw him, and as his eyes roved on and he made no sign, the boy’s hand went to his pocket in search of his handkerchief to wave to him. He did not withdraw it, but lay lazily watching while the secretary now turned his back and stood gazing right away.
“Never saw him do anything of that kind before,” thought Roy. “What’s he looking after? I shouldn’t have thought he had ever been up there in his life.”
Roy lay quite still, with his eyes half closed, and all at once the secretary drew out his white laced handkerchief, wiped his forehead three times with a good deal of flourish, and returned it, after which he slowly stepped into the turret opening and backed out of sight.
“Mind you don’t slip,” said Roy, tauntingly, but quite conscious of the fact that his words could not be heard. “Why, he has gone down like a bear—backward. I could run down those stairs as fast as I came up.”
Perhaps it was the warm sunshine, perhaps it was from laziness, but, whatever the cause, Roy Royland went off fast asleep, and remained so for quite a couple of hours, when, starting up wonderingly, and not quite conscious of the reason why he was there, he looked about him, and finally over the great parapet, to see the secretary beyond the farther end of the drawbridge, talking in a very benign way to the old porter, who stood with bent head listening to his words.