for
hers. Isn't that enough? And about their frightening me downstairs--they
didn't. You see, Mr. Bayne--you were there."

A wisp of red-brown hair had come loose across her forehead. Her face,
flushed and royally grateful, was smiling into mine. Till that moment I
had never dreamed that eyes could be so dazzling. I thrust my hands deep
into my pockets; I felt they were safer so.

"What is it?" she faltered, a little startled, as I rose.

"Nothing--now," I replied firmly. "I'll tell you later, to-morrow maybe,
when we have seen this thing through. And in the meantime, whatever
happens, I don't want you to give a thought to it. The German doesn't
live who can get the better of me--not after what you have said."

The situation suddenly presented itself in rosy colors. I saw how strong
the door was, what a lot of breaking it would take. And if they did
force a way in, then I could try some sharp-shooting. But Miss Falconer
was getting up slowly.

"Now the papers, Mr. Bayne," said she.

To be sure, the papers! I had temporarily forgotten them.

"They can't be here," I said blankly, gazing about the room.

"No, not here. In there." She motioned toward the inner door. "This
is the old suite of the lords of Prezelay. We are in the room of the
guards, where the armed retainers used to lie all night before the fire,
watching. Then comes the antechamber and then the room of the squires
and then the bedchamber of the lord." Her voice had fallen now as if she
thought that the walls were listening. "In the lord's room there is a
secret hiding-place behind a panel; and if the papers are at Prezelay,
they will be there."

I took the candle from her, turned to the door, and opened it.

"I hope they are," I said. "Let us go and see."

The antechamber, the room of the squires, the bedchamber of the lord.
Such terms were fascinating; they called up before me a whole picture
of feudal life. Thanks to the attentions of the Germans, the rooms were
mere empty shells, however, though they must have been rather splendid
when decked out with furniture and portraits and tapestries before the
war.

Our steps echoed on the stone as we traversed the antechamber, a quaint
round place, lined with bull's-eye windows and presided over by the
statues of four armed men. Another door gave us entrance to the quarter
of the squires. We started across it, but in the center of the floor I
stopped. In all the other rooms of the castle dust had lai