“I will engage to find him for your excellency,” said Wolfytt, who bore no very kindly feeling to Nightgall, “if he is anywhere below the Tower. I know every turn and hole in these passages better than the oldest rat that haunts them.”
“Deliver him to my vengeance,” rejoined Renard, “and you shall hold his place.”
“Says your excellency so!” cried Wolfytt; “then you may account him already in your hands.”
With this, he snatched up a halberd and a torch, and bidding two of the officials come with him, started off at a swift pace on the right. Neither he nor his companions relaxed their pace, but tracked passage after passage, and examined vault after vault—but still without success.
Renard’s impatience manifested itself in furious exclamations, and Wolfytt appeared perplexed and disappointed.
“I have it!” he exclaimed, rubbing his shaggy head. “He must have entered Saint John’s Chapel, in the White Tower, by the secret passage.”
The party were again in motion; and, taking the least circuitous road, Wolfytt soon brought them to a narrow passage, at the end of which he descried a dark crouching figure.
“We have him!” he cried, exultingly. “There he is!”
Creeping quickly along, for the roof was so low that he was compelled to stoop, Wolfytt prepared for an encounter with Nightgall. The latter grasped his dagger, and appeared ready to spring upon his assailant. Knowing the strength and ferocity of the jailor, Wolfytt hesitated a moment, but goaded on by Renard, who was close behind, and eager for vengeance, he was about to commence the attack, when Nightgall, taking advantage of the delay, touched a spring in the wall behind him, and a stone dropping from its place, he dashed through the aperture. With a yell of rage and disappointment, Wolfytt sprang after him, and was instantly struck down by a blow from his opponent’s dagger. Renard followed, and beheld the fugitive speeding across the nave of Saint John’s Chapel, and, without regarding Wolfytt, who was lying on the floor, bleeding profusely, he continued the pursuit.
Nightgall hurried up the steps behind the altar, and took his way along one of the arched stone galleries opening upon the council-chamber. But, swiftly as he fled, Renard, to whom fury had lent wings, rapidly gained upon him.