assed under the
arch--where a door, shattered and wrenched from its upper hinge, lay
askew against the wall--and climbed to the platform. From this
another flight of steps (but these were of worked granite) led
straight as a ladder to a smaller platform at the foot of the keep;
and high upon these stood my uncle Gervase directing half a score of
monks to right an overturned cannon.

His back was toward me, but he turned as I hailed him by name--
turned, and I saw that he carried one arm in a sling. He came down
the steps to welcome me, but slowly and with a very grave face.

"My father--where is he?"

"He is alive, lad." My uncle took my hand and pressed it. "That is
to say, I left him alive. But come and see--" He paused--my uncle
was ever shy in the presence of women--and with his sound hand lifted
his hat to the Princess. "The signorina, if she will forgive a
stranger for suggesting it--she may be spared some pain if--"

"She seeks her mother, sir," said I, cutting him short; "and her
mother is the Queen Emilia."

"Your servant, signorina." My uncle bowed again and with a
reassuring smile. "And I am happy to tell you that, so far at least,
our expedition has succeeded. Your mother lives, signorina--or,
should I say, Princess? Yes, yes, Princess, to be sure--But come,
the both of you, and be prepared for gladness or sorrow, as may
betide."

He ran up the steps and we followed him, across the platform to a low
doorway in the base of the keep, through this, and up a winding
staircase of spirals, so steep and so many that the head swam.
Open lancet windows--one at each complete round of the stair--
admitted the morning breeze, and through them, as I clung to the
newel and climbed dizzily, I had glimpses of the sea twinkling far
below. I counted these windows up to ten or a dozen, but had lost my
reckoning for minutes before we emerged, at my uncle's heels, upon a
semi-circular landing, and in face of an iron-studded door, the hasp
of which he rattled gently. A voice answered from within bidding him
open, and very softly he thrust the door wide.

The room into which we looked was of fair size and circular in shape.
Three windows lit it, and between us and the nearest knelt Dom
Basilio, busy with a web of linen which he was tearing into bandages.
His was the voice that had commanded us to enter; and passing in, I
was aware that the room had two other occupants; for behind the door
stood a truckle bed