and thither,
one command following another, till he was bewildered with the number and
the hurry of commissions. All that time he had seen no more of Sir
Oliver, and nothing of Matcham; and yet both the priest and the young lad
ran continually in his mind. It was now his chief purpose to escape from
Tunstall Moat House as speedily as might be; and yet, before he went, he
desired a word with both of these.

At length, with a lamp in one hand, he mounted to his new apartment. It
was large, low, and somewhat dark. The window looked upon the moat, and
although it was so high up, it was heavily barred. The bed was
luxurious, with one pillow of down and one of lavender, and a red
coverlet worked in a pattern of roses. All about the walls were
cupboards, locked and padlocked, and concealed from view by hangings of
dark-coloured arras. Dick made the round, lifting the arras, sounding
the panels, seeking vainly to open the cupboards. He assured himself
that the door was strong and the bolt solid; then he set down his lamp
upon a bracket, and once more looked all around.

For what reason had he been given this chamber? It was larger and finer
than his own. Could it conceal a snare? Was there a secret entrance?
Was it, indeed, haunted? His blood ran a little chilly in his veins.

Immediately over him the heavy foot of a sentry trod the leads. Below
him, he knew, was the arched roof of the chapel; and next to the chapel
was the hall. Certainly there was a secret passage in the hall; the eye
that had watched him from the arras gave him proof of that. Was it not
more than probable that the passage extended to the chapel, and, if so,
that it had an opening in his room?

To sleep in such a place, he felt, would be foolhardy. He made his
weapons ready, and took his position in a corner of the room behind the
door. If ill was intended, he would sell his life dear.

The sound of many feet, the challenge, and the password, sounded overhead
along the battlements; the watch was being changed.

And just then there came a scratching at the door of the chamber; it grew
a little louder; then a whisper:

"Dick, Dick, it is I!"

Dick ran to the door, drew the bolt, and admitted Matcham. He was very
pale, and carried a lamp in one hand and a drawn dagger in the other.

"Shut me the door," he whispered. "Swift, Dick! This house is full of
spies; I hear their feet follow me in the corridors; I hear them breathe
behind th