“Then come!”
Gladly she obeyed, and ascended the short flight of steps, and soon stood beside the form of Devereaux on the roof.
“The sentinel,” she whispered.
“Lies there,” and Devereaux pointed to a 294 dark figure extended at full length beside the belfry. “Mind him not. We must hasten. Here is the rope. Descend, and loose not thine hold of it until thy feet have touched ground as thou lovest life. Remember the fate of Griffin of Wales.”
Francis grasped the rope and swung herself clear of the belfry. For a moment she swayed dizzily, then the rope settled, and steadying herself by means of the roughened surface of the old walls she slipped quickly to the ground. The Bell Tower consisted of only one story above the ground one so that the feat was not so difficult as it would have been from any of the other towers. Giving a tug to the rope in token that she had reached the ground in safety she waited Devereaux’s coming with palpitating heart. In a few moments he was beside her.
For a second they stood silently, but no sound from the battlements above betokened that their flight had been discovered. Grasping the girl’s hand Devereaux drew her quickly across the outer ward into the shadow of the Byward Tower through which was the principal entrance. This was guarded by a 295 burly warder whom the youth could not hope to overcome by strength, so he resolved upon a strategy. With a low breathed injunction to Francis he bent over, and ran at full tilt into the man as he came toward them, hitting him, as he had foreseen, directly in the stomach and upsetting him. With a roar and a shout the guard sprang to his feet just as they darted past him. The drawbridge leading across the moat was closed, but, nothing daunted, the two leaped over the railing into the moat below.
The sentinels on the battlements of the tower heard the splash and instantly gave the alarm. The bell rang; lights flashed along the ramparts, and numerous shots were fired into the moat after the fugitives. The moat was wide and deep, and Francis whose physical vigor was undermined by her long confinement, felt her strength failing.
“Leave me, Edward,” she gasped. “I can hold out no longer. Save thyself!”
“Never!” came from Devereaux valiantly, and he supported her with his arm. “Lean on me. The wharf is not far distant. Courage!” 296
As they neared the other side a low whistle sounded, which the lad answered in like manner. Then indistinctly the form of a man became visible on the opposite bank. Again the whistle came, and a line was thrown out to them. This Edward grasped, and they were soon towed to shore, and pulled from the water.