without visitors, and that
Margery and Charley Blount should come and read to him.

Captain Askew, having made these arrangements for the safety of the poor
blind man, considered how he could warn Mr Ludlow of the danger
threatening Charley Blount was the best messenger he could select. The
hall was nine miles off, but Charley said that the distance was nothing,
and that he would be there and back by dinner-time; so having received
his instructions he set off, with a stout stick in his hand, in high
spirits, observing that should the smugglers wish to stop him, they
would have to run very fast before he was caught.

CHAPTER FIVE.

HOPES--THE SAILOR'S STORY--THE SMUGGLERS--GUESTS AT THE TOWER--GHOSTS.

About an hour after Charley Blount had left the Tower, Stephen Ludlow
trotted up on his pony, not having met the young sailor on the way. He
said that he had come over early, to spend the day, and that if he was
asked to sleep he might do so. Of this the captain was very glad as he
did not wish him to run the risk of going back alone, and at the same
time he had not sufficient confidence in his discretion to tell him what
he had learned from Blind Peter; so he said, "I am very glad to receive
you, my young friend; but I must exact a promise that you will not go
beyond the open beach, or the downs in sight of the windows of the
Tower, unless with Tom or me. I have my reasons, which I need not
mention now."

Stephen thought this rather odd, but as he wished to stay, he readily
gave the required promise. Margery had for some time been wishing to
see him, to talk to him about the book he had lent her, and which she
had now read completely through.

"Oh, Stephen!" she exclaimed, when she saw him, "it is such a delightful
book. I have never read anything I have liked half so much. It has
given me an idea--but I cannot talk to you about it here. You must come
out on the beach, and we will sit on a rock and look out over the sea,
and then I shall be able to say all I wish."

So they went out together, and easily found a spot to suit Margery's
taste.

"Well, Margery, what is it that you have to tell me about my old book?"
said Stephen, in a tone which would have told her, had she not been
herself so engrossed in her subject, that she was not likely to have a
very sympathising hearer.

"Pray do not speak of it in that way, Stephen," she answered. "It's a
dear, delightful book, at all events; and since I read