Leaving the man in charge of it there, Harry and his companions made for the back of the castle.  They could tell by the calls upon the walls that the sentries were watchful, but the night was so dark that they had no fear whatever of being seen.  Very quietly they crossed the moat, which was shallow, and with but little water in it.  Then with an auger they cut four holes in a square two feet each way in the door, and, with a saw, speedily cut the piece inclosed by them out, and creeping through, entered the garden.  The greater part of the lights were already extinguished, but that in the king’s chamber was still burning.  They made their way quietly until they stood beneath this window, and waited until the light here was also put out.  Then Harry climbed on to the shoulders of his companions, which brought his face on a level with the window.  He tapped at it.  The king, who had been warned that his friends would attempt to open a means of escape, at once came to the window, and threw open the casement.

“Who is there?” he asked, in low tones.

“It is I, Harry Furness, your majesty.  I have two trusty friends with me.  We have cut a hole through the postern gate, a cart is waiting without, and a ship lies ready to receive you on the coast.”

“I am ready,” the king said.  “Thanks, my faithful servant.  But have you brought something to cut the bars?”

“The bars!” Henry exclaimed, aghast.  “I did not know that there were bars!”

“There are, indeed, Master Furness,” the king said, “and if you have no file the enterprise is ruined.”

Harry put his hands on the stonework and pulled himself up, and felt the bars within the window.

“They are too strong for our united strength,” he said, in a tone of deep disappointment.  “But methinks it is possible to get between them.”  Putting his head between the bars he struggled though, but with great difficulty.  “See, your majesty, I have got through.”

“Ay, Master Furness, but you are slighter in figure than I, although you are changed indeed since first the colonel, your father, presented you to me at Oxford.  However, I will try.”  The king tried, but in vain.  He was stouter than Harry, although less broadly built, and had none of the lissomness which enabled the latter to wriggle through the bars.  “It is useless,” he said at last.  “Providence is against me.  It is the will of God that I should remain here.  It may be the decree of Heaven that even yet I may sit again on the throne of my ancestors.  Now go, Master Furness.  It is too late to renew the attempt to-night.  Should Charles Stuart ever reign again over England, he will not forget your faithful service.”

Harry kissed the king’s hand, and with a prayer for his welfare he again made his way through the bars and dropped from the window, by the side of his companions, the tears streaming down his cheeks with the disappointment and sorrow he felt at the failure of his enterprise.  “It is all over,” he said.  “The king cannot force his way through the bars.”