y had hewn his way through
the Arden men and taken his first step on the flagged path of the
courtyard. The first step was his last. He stopped, a big, burly fellow
in a leathern coat and steel round cap, and looked, bewildered, at the
little figure coming at him with all the fire and courage of the Ardens
burning in his blue eyes. The big man laughed, and as he laughed Dickie
lunged with his sword--the way his tutor had taught him--and the little
sword--no tailor's ornament to a Court dress, but a piece of true
steel--went straight and true up into the heart of that big rebel. The
man fell, wrenching the blade from Dickie's hand.

A shout of fury went up from the enemy. A shout of pride and triumph
from the Arden men. Men struggled and fought all about him. Next moment
Dickie's hands were tied with a handkerchief, and he stood there
breathless and trembling with pride.

[Illustration: "'I HAVE KILLED A MAN,' HE SAID"

_Page 290_]

"I have killed a man," he said; "I have killed a man for the King and
for Arden."

They shut him up in the fuel shed and locked the door. Pride and anger
filled him. He could think of nothing but that one good thrust for the
good cause. But presently he remembered.

He had brought his cousins here--he must get them back safely. But how?
On a quiet evening on the road Beale had taught him how to untie hands
tied behind the back. He remembered the lesson now and set to work--but
it was slow work. And all the time he was thinking, thinking. How could
he get out? He knew the fuel shed well enough. The door was strong,
there was a beech bar outside. But it was not roofed with tile or lead,
as the rest of the Castle was. And Dickie knew something about thatch.
Not for nothing had he watched the men thatching the oast-house by the
Medway. When his hands were free he stood up and felt for the pins that
fasten the thatch.

Suddenly his hands fell by his side. Even if he got out, how could he
find his cousins? He would only be found by the rebels and be locked
away more securely. He lay down on the floor, lay quite still there. It
was despair. This was the end of all his cleverness. He had brought
Edred and Elfrida into danger, and he could not get them back again. His
anger had led him to defy the Roundheads, and to gratify his hate of
them he had sacrificed those two who trusted him. He lay there a long
time, and if he cried a little it was very dark in the fuel house, and
there was no one t