At the mention of Sir Ronald’s name the key was inserted in the lock, and by the time the sentence was completed the great gate was swung open, and the visitor found himself, to his great satisfaction, beyond the barrier.

“I was but jesting,” humbly said the man as he re-locked the gate; “for you must well know that we are not allowed to take bribes, though where the harm of it would be, I confess I cannot see.”

Having succeeded in passing the barrier, Edmund did not stay to argue the question with the gatekeeper.  He turned his steps towards the Castle, and in a very few minutes found himself at its embattled entrance.

The gates, of course, were fastened, but the bell-rope was hanging down, so seizing hold of that he gave it a vigorous pull.

“Holloa, my hearty, what’s amiss?” asked a stentorian voice.  “That’s the third summons to-night.”

“I want to see the constable of the Castle,” replied the traveller.

“Well, thou hadst better hie thee to London, and happen, if you’re lucky, you may find him there.”

“Sir Ronald at London!” exclaimed Edmund, in blank dismay.

“Sir Ronald!” repeated the other.  “No, the Earl of Rutland.”

“But Sir Ronald Bury?”

“He’s the deputy-constable.”

“Well, I would see him.  Is he here?”

“Yes, he is here,” responded a gruff voice.  “I am Sir Ronald; who art thou?  What dost thou require at this time o’ night?”

“I want to see thee privately, upon a matter of much importance,” answered the pseudo smith, somewhat annoyed not to be recognised by his brother-in-law.

“See if he has any weapons on him, Wilton,” said the knight, “and let him enter if there is no suspicion of foul play.  It will go badly with him, though, I trow, has he ventured here on no sufficient reason.”

Wilton approached him to obey his master’s commands, but Edmund waved him back by an imperious gesture of the arm.

“Nay, cousin Ronald,” he exclaimed in high dudgeon.  “It is beyond a joke to take matters so far.  Ellice might well expect that a little kinder treatment would have been extended to her brother at the hands of her husband.”

“Eh, what!  Are you Edmund; risen from the grave?” asked the knight in high surprise.

“I am Edmund, sure enough,” was the reply, “but I have not risen from the grave.  I am not astrologer enough for that.  This is a sorry welcome, and no mistake.”

“Faith, man, how could I tell it were thee?  We thought thee dead twelve months agone.  Come in, man, come in; there’s no occasion for thee to tarry there now.  Let him in, Wilton, and be sure the gates are well fastened to-night.  Robert and Lucy will be right glad to see you again,” he said, “especially Little Robert, who has never forgotten those little iron toys that you made for him two years ago.”

Edmund Wynne needed no second invitation.  He hurried through the open portals and the two walked up together towards the inhabited part of the building.