ing to the tower at the north-west corner, the dim
light casting strange shadows behind, which seemed to be moving in
pursuit of the two silent figures, urged on by the whispering echoes of
their steps.

The pavement was smooth and perfectly dry, as were the massive stone
walls; and as they went on, Roy fell into a musing fit, and thought of
what a strongly built place Royland castle was, and how in times of
emergency, if a garrison were hard pressed and had to yield rampart and
tower to a powerful enemy, they would still have these passages and
crypts as a place of refuge from which, if a bold defence were made, it
would be impossible to dislodge them.

Apparently mind does influence mind under certain circumstances, for,
just as Roy had arrived at this point, Ben stopped short and turned.

"Look here, Master Roy," he said, "you ought, now we're getting in
pretty good order, to do two things."

"Yes; what are they?"

"Have that there stone gallows on the ramparts put a bit in order. It
wants a few stones and some mortar."

"Why should I have that put in order?" said Roy, shortly.

"Case you want to hang any traitors, sir, for giving notice to the enemy
of what we're doing, or trying to open the gates to 'em."

"I shall never want to hang any traitors," said Roy, sternly.

"I don't s'pose you will, sir; but it's just as well to let people see
that you could if you wanted to. Might keep us from having any."

"I will not let the garrison see that I could have any such mistrust of
the men who have come bravely up to help to protect my father's
property."

"Well, Master Roy, that sounds handsome, and I like the idea of it: it's
cheering-like to a man who tries to do his best. But all people don't
think same as we do, and whenever we hear of a castle being attacked and
defended, there were always people outside trying to make traitors of
those who were in, and temptation's a nasty, cunning, 'sinuating sort of
a thing. But you're castellan, and you ought to do as you please."

"I will, Ben, over that, at all events. Fancy what my mother would
think if I were to be making preparations for such a horror."

"Hum! yes, sir. What would she think? That's a queer thing, Master
Roy, isn't it, what a deal mothers have to do with how a man does,
whether he's a boy or whether he's growed up?"

"Why, of course they have. It is natural."

"Yes, sir; I suppose it is," said the old soldier, as he went on. "You
wou