“Must,” whispered Roy; and anticipating that his father would suggest using the same means, he continued: “Can’t use it now; all blown up. Is there no other way? Can’t you scale the ramparts?”
“Impossible, boy. I must leave you, then. My life will be forfeit when the colonel returns, and it is too valuable to my king, my men, to you and your mother, to be thrown away.”
“But how can you escape, father?”
“By reaching the ramparts and plunging into the moat. Good-bye, boy. Tell your mother I will return soon with as great a force as I can; for this place must be retaken. There—Heaven be with you! I dare not stay, for it may be hours before I can reach the ramparts.”
“But is there no other way, father? A hundred and fifty men, and no way of getting them in!”
“Unless the drawbridge can be lowered and portcullis raised—none!”
A deep silence, only broken by the pacing of the sentry outside, and Roy dreaded now lest the change of men should take place, and the door be opened to see whether the prisoner was safe. He tried all he could to think out some plan, but every one seemed mad; and it was horrible to be so near success, and yet to fail.
“It is of no use, boy; we are wasting time,” said Sir Granby, as Roy clung to him. “It would be mad to try any other way, and spilling precious blood. Good-bye!”
Roy tried to say the words in return, but they would not come; and, thoroughly unnerved in his despair, he clung to his father’s neck till he felt himself repelled; and then the way of escape from their dilemma came.
In one instant a flash which vividly lit up the whole chamber darted in through the open window, and a deafening roar followed.