Soon came they to the iron door and Beltane stood aside, whereon the mighty four, bending brawny shoulders, swung the log crashing against the iron; thrice and four times smote they, might and main, ere rusted bolt and rivet gave beneath the battery and the door swung wide.  Down went the log, and ready steel flashed as Beltane strode on, his torch aflare, ’twixt oozing walls, up steps of stone that yet were slimy to the tread, on and up by winding passage and steep-climbing stairway, until they came where was a parting of the ways—­the first still ascending, the second leading off at a sharp angle.  Here Beltane paused in doubt, and bidding the others halt, followed the second passage until he was come to a narrow flight of steps that rose to the stone roof above.  But here, in the wall beside the steps, he beheld a rusty iron lever, and reaching up, he bore upon the lever and lo! the flagstone above the steps reared itself on end and showed a square of gloom beyond.

Then went Beltane and signalled to the others; so, one by one, they followed him up through the opening into that same gloomy chamber where he had lain in bonds and hearkened to wails of torment; but now the place was bare and empty and the door stood ajar.  So came Beltane thither, bearing the torch, and stepped softly into the room beyond, a wide room, arras-hung and richly furnished, and looking around upon the voluptuous luxury of gilded couch and wide, soft bed, Beltane frowned suddenly upon a woman’s dainty, broidered shoe.

“Roger,” he whispered, “what place is this?”

“’Tis Red Pertolepe’s bed-chamber, master.”

“Ah!” sighed Beltane, “’tis rank of him, methinks—­lead on, Roger, go you and Walkyn before them in the dark, and wait for me in the bailey.”

One by one, the wild company went by Beltane, fierce-eyed and stealthy, until there none remained save Giles, who, leaning upon his bow, looked with yearning eyes upon the costly splendour.

“Aha,” he whispered, “a pretty nest, tall brother.  I’ll warrant ye full many a fair white dove hath beat her tender pinions—­”

“Come!” said Beltane, and speaking, reached out his torch to bed-alcove and tapestried wall; and immediately silk and arras went up in a puff of flame—­a leaping fire, yellow-tongued, that licked at gilded roof-beam and carven screen and panel.

“Brother!” whispered Giles, “O brother, ’tis a sin, methinks, to lose so much good booty.  That coffer, now—­Ha!” With the cry the archer leapt out through the tapestried doorway.  Came the ring of steel, a heavy fall, and thereafter a shriek that rang and echoed far and near ere it sank to a silence wherein a voice whispered: 

“Quick, brother—­the besotted fools stir at last—­away!”