ary saw how it was in a moment. The poor girl had apparently been
tempted into trying to get at some of the yellow lilies and silvery
water crowfoot which were growing abundantly in the centre of the wide
moat, and to effect this she had entered a clumsy old boat that was
evidently utilised for clearing out the weeds and growth from the
stagnant water. That it was a boat was sufficient for her, and she had
pushed out into the middle, not heeding that the craft was so rotten and
fragile that just as she was out in one of the deepest parts it began to
fill rapidly, and sank beneath her weight, leaving her struggling in the
water.

Hilary had some distance to swim, for here, in the front of the house,
the moat was double the width of the part by his prison window, and to
his horror he saw the beating hands subside beneath the water while he
was many yards away. But he was a good swimmer, and redoubling his
exertions he forced his way onward, as he saw Sir Henry, Allstone, and
three more men come running out to the moat; but only one of them, Sir
Henry himself, attempted to save the drowning girl's life.

Long before Sir Henry could reach Adela, Hilary was at the spot where he
had seen her go down, and, rising for a moment and making a dive, he
went down, rose, dived again, and once again before he caught hold of
the poor girl's dress, and then swam with her for the shore.

The moat was deep right up to the grassy edge; and Hilary was in the act
of placing Adela in the hands held down to catch her when a fresh cry
for help assailed his ears, and, turning, it was to see that Sir Henry
was a dozen yards away, swimming apparently, but making no progress.

Hilary suspected the cause as he turned and swam to his old friend's
help. For Sir Henry was heavily dressed, and, in addition, booted and
spurred. The consequence had been that his heavy boots, with their
appendages, were entangled in the long tough stems of the lilies, and
his position was perilous in the extreme.

For a moment Hilary wondered how he could help his old friend, and as he
wondered the thought came.

Swimming with one hand, he drew the cutlass from his belt, and telling
Sir Henry to be cool, he swam up to him, thrust the cutlass down beneath
the water, and after two or three attempts succeeded in dividing the
tough stalks, ending by helping the nearly exhausted swimmer towards the
shore.

The men on the shore, and that little figure kneeling by the