ng
brought in for his accommodation.

* * * * *

"The Rat's-Hole!"

Constans repeated the words half aloud, holding the paper close to the
guttering candle. It was but a tiny scrap, scarce large enough for the
writing that it held. But paper of any kind is rare in these days, and
so the gleam of white had caught his eye as he went up-stairs to his
sleeping apartment. The handwriting was unfamiliar, and besides it was
in back-hand, and it may be disguised as well; he was hardly an expert
in such fine distinctions. But it was plainly a message, and its
possible import startled him. For the Rat's-Hole was the secret exit
that existed behind the jamb of the fireplace at the upper end of the
hall. So cunningly had the panelled door been joinered into the
wainscoting that a man might search for hours and yet not discover the
spring that threw it open. Furthermore, the wainscoting was but a screen
for the real door of iron-bound oak giving passage directly through the
outer wall of the keep to the open country. A jealously guarded secret,
this matter of the Rat's-Hole, and supposed to be known only to the
master of the household and his immediate family. Even among them its
existence was never referred to in ordinary conversation, while its
actual use was restricted to the gravest of emergencies.

"The Rat's-Hole!" A message, an agreement, an appointment? By whose hand
had these words been written? For whose eye had they been intended?

It would have been the wiser course to have communicated at once with
Sir Gavan, but the latter, feeling somewhat indisposed, had retired
early, and Constans hesitated to disturb him. Moreover, the boy stood in
awe of his father, and of late a feeling of estrangement had been
growing up between them. To Sir Gavan, Constans, with his dreamy,
inactive nature, was a keen disappointment--so different from his
brother Tennant. And Constans felt that his father did not understand
him nor, indeed, cared to do so. Latterly, they had gone their own ways,
and now at this perplexing juncture Constans could not bring himself to
take his father into his confidence.

When, a few moments later, the lights had been formally extinguished for
the night, Constans made his way back to the hall; he had to pass close
by the pallet occupied by the peddler, and he paused an instant to
listen to his deep and measured breathing. Surely the man slept.

Even in the dark Constans knew