"This is ridiculous," he said to himself impatiently. "I wonder whether the thing has a bolt."
He rose, and, standing on the bed, found that with outstretched hand he could just reach the boards. Exploring the edge of the trap-door with his fingers he soon discovered that there was no bolt, though there had evidently been one at some time, for on a second search he felt an iron socket let into one of the adjacent joists. He raised himself on tiptoes and gently pushed at the door. It rose slightly; clearly it was not fastened above. No glimmer of moonlight came through the small gap between the trap and the ceiling; therefore it did not give directly upon the roof, but probably opened into an attic or loft. There was nothing more to be discovered, and indeed he scarcely felt that he needed to discover more, for his uneasiness had already been largely dissipated by action. He lay down again, and tried to sleep.
This time he was successful. How long he slept he did not know. He suddenly awoke, and at the first moment of consciousness remembered the ostler's tune; he identified it now; it was something like Fanshawe's song of "Widdicombe Fair". He was not enough of a musician to decide how close was the resemblance; country songs of different nations were, he supposed, often alike. Glad that his puzzlement was gone, he settled himself once more to sleep.
All at once his senses were roused to full activity by the sound of two or more horses approaching the inn, at a walk, as he knew by the fall of the hoofs. It was very late for travellers; besides, travellers would probably have ridden up at a trot; he wondered who the riders could be, and listened intently. In a few moments the sounds ceased; then through the open window came the murmur of low voices. Springing quietly out of bed, he went to the window and peeped cautiously out. Five men were leading their horses into the copse immediately opposite to the inn. The short squat figure of one of them reminded him of the farmer whom he had seen with the landlord a few hours before; he seemed the shorter by contrast with the next man, a tall massive figure. They went quietly, and disappeared into the copse; soon afterwards four of them emerged from the trees and approached the inn. Not a word was spoken; the men were apparently walking on tiptoe; but there came the slight sound of a door opening and closing, then dead silence again.
By this time Harry was as wide-awake as ever he had been in his life. His uneasiness returned in full force, and was now magnified into suspicion. The landlord's furtive look and unsatisfactory manner; the story of the closing of the gates of Urach; his lame explanation about the room; the absence of a fastening to the trap-door; the disappearance of the landlord's forbidding companion; the reappearance of the same man with a number of others; their stealthy movements, and the fact that they had tied their horses up in the copse instead of bringing them into the courtyard—all these were links in a chain of suspicious circumstance, of little significance singly, but disturbing when taken together. And the stableman's tune—what did that mean? Was it actually the tune of "Widdicombe Fair", and not merely one resembling it? Had the ostler heard it from Fanshawe's lips? Was he on the track of the explanation of the disappearance of one of Marlborough's messengers?
Quickly and noiselessly Harry slipped on his clothes. His first duty was, of course, to deliver the duke's letter; nothing must interfere with that. His suspicions might be utterly groundless, but on the other hand they might be only too well justified. He must be on the safe side; it was necessary to put himself out of harm's way.
Only one staircase led to his room: it sprang from the narrow entrance-hall of the inn, on each side of which were the doors of the rooms on the ground floor. He could scarcely hope to be able to pass down, however stealthily, without being discovered; and even if he did succeed in this and left the inn, he would be immediately seen by the fifth man, who, he guessed, had been left in the copse to keep watch on the front door. The staircase being given up, there remained only the window and the trap-door. By placing the chair upon the bed and mounting it he might manage to swing himself up through the trap-door; but it flashed upon him that if any mischief were intended the midnight visitors would certainly approach through the attic or loft above. He remembered passing, at the head of the stairs, a door which he had taken to be that of a cupboard; it might be the entrance to a stair leading to the loft, and if he tried that exit he would certainly be in an even worse trap.
A glance from the window determined his choice. There was a drop of about fifteen feet from it to the roof of the outbuilding. In the moonlight he caught sight of what appeared to be the top of a drain-pipe from the roof of this lower building to the ground. The drain-pipe would form an easy means of descent could he gain the roof. There was only one way to do that: to descend by aid of a rope. Without hesitation he drew the thin coverlet from the bed, and tore it across the middle. Knotting the two pieces together he rolled up a clumsy but serviceable rope. The window was only two feet from the bed-post. He tied the rope to this, slung his boots round his neck, wrapped his scabbard in a corner cut from the blanket, to prevent its clanking, and prepared to descend.
It was fortunate that the window was already open, for the creaking of the frame might have attracted attention. There was a risk that the man in the copse might see him as he got through the window; but the moon was now above the house, and the overhanging roof cast a deep shadow over all below.
He had his hand on the broad window-sill, preparing to begin the descent, when an idea gave him pause. How ridiculous he must appear if his suspicions turned out to be baseless, and he had slunk like a thief from the house! How humiliating would be his situation if he were caught in the act and treated as a doubtful character! He could not be suspected of stealing; there was nothing to steal; but he might be thought to be running away without paying. He could prevent that, at any rate. He put a gold piece on the chair.