“Stop here; keep the women with you, and don’t go near the window; there may be firing;” and, even as he spoke, shots began to ring out.
“Stop! Where are you going?” cried Lady Royland, clinging to him.
“To release our men, and help my father,” said Roy.
Lady Royland’s hands fell to her sides, and the boy darted out of the room and along the corridor, full of the idea that had flashed into his brain.
Away to the end he ran unchallenged, turned to the right, and without meeting a soul, reached the north-east tower, listening to the shouting and clashing of swords in the court as the desperate fight went on, his way lit by the glare from the flames in spite of the dense, heavy smoke and the choking fumes of exploded gunpowder which rolled along the passage.
With his heart beating wildly for fear he should be too late, Roy dashed down the spiral staircase to the basement, and the next minute he reached the door of the lower hall, which formed the men’s prison-chamber.
The sentries were gone, and he thrust back the bolts and turned the ponderous key.
“Ben! Corporal! Donny! All of you—quick!”
“Ay, ay, sir. You’re only just in time, for we’re most smothered. What does it all mean?”
“Don’t talk! Follow me—guard-room. Enemy all in the court.”