“If they do not come by midnight, or if Jan Lubber Fiend does not light his fire by the White Gate, we must e’en risk it and kindle this one here on the Red Tower.”

So the night passed on till it was about eleven, or it might be a quarter of an hour later.  Then all suddenly I saw a little crowd of men disengage themselves from that private entrance of the Hall of Judgment by which, on the day of the trial, Dessauer and I had entered.  They made straight towards the Red Tower at a quick run.

“Dear love,” said I to Helene, “see yonder!  Be ready to light the beacon.  I fear me much that our time has come to fight for life.”

“Kiss me, then,” she said, “and I will be ready for all that may be.  At worst, we can die together, true husband and true wife.”

Presently there came a thundering knock at the door of the Red Tower.  I crouched on the stairs behind and listened intently.  I could hear the breathing of several men.

“He is surely within,” said a voice.  “The tower has been watched every moment of the day.”

Again came the loud knocking.

“Open—­in the name of the Duke!” cried the voice.  And the door was rattled fiercely against its fastenings.

But I knew well enough that it could hold against any force of unassisted men.  For my father had ever taken a special pride in the bars and defences of the single low door which led into his much-threatened residence.

So I crouched in the dark of the stairs and listened with yet more quivering intentness.  Presently I could hear shoulders set to the iron-studded surface, and a voice counted, softly, “One—­two—­three—­and a heave!” But though I discerned the laboring of the men straining themselves with all their might, they might as well have pushed at the rough-harled wall of the Wolfsberg.

“It will not do,” I heard one say at last.  “We cannot hope to succeed thus.  Bring the powder-bag and prepare the fuse.”

So then I knew indeed that our time was at hand.  I mounted the stairs three at a time till I came to the room where Helene was waiting for me in the dark.

“Fire the beacon on the Tower!” I bade her—­“our enemies are upon us!”

“And after that may I come to you, Hugo?” she said.

“Nay, little one, it is better that you bide on the roof and see that the beacon burns.  You will find plenty of tow and oil in the niche by the stair-head.”

I could hear Helene give vent to a little sigh.  But she obeyed instantly, and her light feet went pattering up the stairs.

Then I waited for the explosion, which seemed as if it would never come.  I had my dagger in my belt, but of pure instinct my right hand seized the Red Axe.  For I had more skill of that than any other weapon, and as I had cast it down when they brought us in from the scaffold that morning, it lay ready to my hand.