“Lawrence Nightgall,” replied Xit, keeping as clear of them as he could. “He has been arrested by an order from the privy-council, and has escaped.”
At this moment, Nightgall made his appearance, and was instantly seized by the soldiers. An explanation quickly ensued, but, in the meantime, Xit had flown across the roof, and reaching the opposite turret at the south-east angle, sprang upon the platform, and clambering up the side of the building at the hazard of his neck, contrived to squeeze himself through a loophole.
“We have him safe enough,” cried one of the soldiers, as he witnessed Xit’s manoeuvre. “Here is the key of the door opening into that turret, and he cannot get below.”
So saying, he unlocked the door and admitted the whole party into a small square chamber, in one corner of which was the arched entrance to a flight of stone steps. Up these they mounted, and as they gained the room above, they perceived the agile mannikin creeping through the embrazure.
“Have a care!” roared Nightgall, who beheld this proceeding with astonishment; “You will fall into the court below and be dashed to pieces.”
Xit replied by a loud laugh, and disappeared. When Nightgall gained the outlet, he could see nothing of him, and after calling to him for some time and receiving no answer, the party adjourned to the leads, where they found he had gained the cupola of the turret, and having clambered up the vane, had seated himself in the crown by which it was surmounted. In this elevated, and as he fancied, secure position, he derided his pursuers, and snapping off a piece of the iron-work, threw it at Nightgall, and with so good an aim that it struck him in the face.
A council of war was now held, and it was resolved to summon the fugitive to surrender; when, if he refused to comply, means must be taken to dislodge him. Meanwhile, the object of this consultation had been discovered from below. His screams and antics had attracted the attention of a large crowd, among whom were his friends the giants. Alarmed at his arrest, they had followed to see what became of him, and were passing the foot of the turret at the very moment when he had reached its summit. Xit immediately recognized them, and hailed them at the top of his voice. At first, they were unable to make out whence the noise proceeded; but at length, Gog chancing to look up, perceived the dwarf, and pointed him out to his companions.
Xit endeavoured to explain his situation, and to induce the giants to rescue him; but they could not hear what he said, and only laughed at his gestures and vociferations. Nightgall now called to him in a peremptory tone to come down. Xit refused, and pointing to the crown in which he was seated, screamed, “I have won it, and am determined not to resign it. I am now in the loftiest position in the Tower. Let him bring me down who can.”
“I will be no longer trifled with,” roared Nightgall. “Lend me your arquebuss, Winwike. If there is no other way of dislodging that mischievous imp, I will shoot him as I would a jackdaw.”
Seeing he was in earnest, Xit thought fit to capitulate. A rope was thrown him which he fastened to the vane, and after bowing to the assemblage, waving his cap to the giants, and performing a few other antics, he slided down to the leads in safety. He was then seized by Nightgall, and though he promised, to march as before between his guards, and make no further attempt to escape, he was carried, much to his discomfiture,—for even in his worst scrapes he had an eye to effect,—to the Constable Tower, and locked up in the lower chamber.