"Now," said the guardsman invitingly, when I had ravenously disposed of my second sandwich, "tell us something about it."
I had just opened my lips to speak, when there came a great cry from the roof of the tower above, and a black body shot past the little window near which I was sitting.
We all ran to the window but could see nothing.
Then St. Nivel made a suggestion.
"Let us mount up to the roof," he said, "and see what is to be seen.
You, Botley, had better go down to the foot of the tower."
The keeper touched his forelock and commenced his descent of the spiral staircase. Meanwhile, Lady Ethel, her brother and I mounted up to the top.
We passed the room in which I had been imprisoned, and went up a very much narrower flight of steps to the roof, coming out at a little door which was standing open. The roof was flat and covered with lead.
"Take care how you tread," cried St. Nivel. "I expect it is all pretty rotten. In fact, Ethel, I think you had better go inside."
Ethel, however, was not of that way of thinking; she was a thorough sportswoman and wanted to see all the fun.
"All right, Jack," she rejoined cheerily. "You go on, I'll look after myself without troubling you."