uch he watched that figure,
black against the sky, bending over its work. Now and then the file
screeched against the hard iron, and then Hans would cease for a moment,
but only to begin again as industriously as ever. Three or four times he
tried the effects of his work, but still the iron held. At last he
set his shoulder against it, and as Otto looked he saw the iron bend.
Suddenly there was a sharp crack, and a piece of the grating went flying
out into the night.

Hans tied the rope securely about the stump of the stout iron bar that
yet remained, and then slid down again into the room below.

"My little lord," said he, "dost thou think that if I carry thee, thou
wilt be able and strong enough to cling to my neck?"

"Aye," said Otto, "methinks I will be able to do that."

"Then come," said Hans.

He stooped as he spoke, and gently lifting Otto from his rude and rugged
bed he drew his broad leathern belt around them both, buckling it firmly
and securely. "It does not hurt thee?" said he.

"Not much," whispered Otto faintly.

Then Hans spat upon his hands, and began slowly climbing the rope.

They reached the edge of the window and there they rested for a moment,
and Otto renewed his hold around the neck of the faithful Hans.

"And now art thou ready?" said Hans

"Aye," said Otto.

"Then courage," said Hans, and he turned and swung his leg over the
abyss below.

The next moment they were hanging in mid-air.

Otto looked down and gave a gasp. "The mother of heaven bless us," he
whispered, and then closed his eyes, faint and dizzy at the sight of
that sheer depth beneath. Hans said nothing, but shutting his teeth
and wrapping his legs around the rope, he began slowly descending, hand
under hand. Down, down, down he went, until to Otto, with his eyes shut
and his head leaning upon Hans' shoulder, it seemed as though it could
never end. Down, down, down. Suddenly he felt Hans draw a deep breath;
there was a slight jar, and Otto opened his eyes; Hans was standing upon
the ground.

A figure wrapped in a dark cloak arose from the shadow of the wall, and
took Otto in its arms. It was Baron Conrad.

"My son--my little child!" he cried, in a choked, trembling voice, and
that was all. And Otto pressed his cheek against his father's and began
crying.

Suddenly the Baron gave a sharp, fierce cry. "Dear Heaven!" he cried;
"what have they done to thee?" But poor little Otto could not answer.

"Oh!" gasped the B