So Philip gave him his hand and a straight look in the eyes.
"You have it, lad," he said, in convincing accents of simple truth, and so left us, disappearing into the dark chasm of the wall.
Now Ned had but just closed behind his retreat the door of stone (by that means which I now know, but will not here set down; for who can tell if political trouble be even yet forever at an end in England?) when there came a hand upon the door. Ned dropped into a seat, muttering: "But just in time!" while I, feigning sleep, stretched myself in my corner of the settle.
"Is all well, Captain?" asked the cheery voice of M. de Rondiniacque, as he entered from the gallery.
"All is well, Lieutenant," replied Royston, with a very fine assumption of carelessness. And then the officer of the watch drew near, looking down upon me, as I suppose (for my eyes were fast closed), with curiosity.
"Ma foi!" he cried, "the peevish youth leaves you not, Captain. He is mighty pale in the face for one that sleeps."
"He is little used, I think, to fatigue," replied Ned. "Is all well without, Lieutenant?"
"Mon capitaine," said De Rondiniacque, "not a mouse stirs." And so saluted and retired as he had come.
When the sound of his feet had died away,
"Thank Heaven!" I whispered, "the danger is past!"