ering, authoritative voice to the new-comers,
and then came out to march across to the stables, which were in the
basement of the east side of the castle, with their entrance between the
building and the court; but the gate-way that had opened into the
court-yard had been partly closed up when that was turned into a
flower-garden, and the archway was now covered with ivy.

Roy went up to one of the corridors beneath the ramparts, and watched,
out of curiosity, to see how the groom would take his new orders.

He was not long kept in suspense, for the sturdy young fellow came out
talking eagerly with Ben and turning down his sleeves. Then they went
inside, through the great gate-way to the armoury, and in an incredibly
short space of time came out together, the groom in steel jockey-shaped
cap with a spike on the top, buff coat, sword, and bandoleer, and
shouldering the clumsy firelock of the period.

As they reached the archway, Ben stopped short, drew his sword, said a
few words in a sharp tone, and marched off, with Sam Rogers keeping
step; while a muttering of voices told of how strangely matters had
turned out according to old Ben's prophecy, for, on turning to see what
it meant, Roy saw down through one of the narrow windows that the whole
of the household had turned out to do likewise. But there was no
giggling and laughing, for the women seemed to be impressed, and the
men-servants were shaking their heads and talking together earnestly
about the evil times that had come.

Another sound made Roy turn sharply in the other direction to see his
mother approaching.

"Then you have begun, my son," she said, gravely.

"Yes, mother. The sentry was set, after a long talk with Martlet."

"You need not speak in that apologetic tone, my boy," said Lady Royland,
quietly. "I see the necessity, and I am sure you are doing well. Now,
come and tell me more of your plans."

She led the way to the library, and as they entered Roy glanced towards
the big oak table standing at one end; his eyes fixed themselves upon
the small drawer, and he seemed to see a rusty old key lying there, one
whose wards were shaping themselves plainly before his eyes, as he told
of his arrangements with the old soldier.

"Yes, you have begun well, Roy," said Lady Royland at last. "And what
Martlet says is quite true."

"But you would not dress up as he advises, mother?" protested Roy,
rather bashfully.

"Dress up? No, my boy; but I wou