While satisfying his appetite, Xit could not help reflecting upon the probable consequences of the ridiculous statement he had made to Renard, and the idea of the anger of the ambassador when he discovered the deception practised upon him, occasioned him much internal trepidation. It did not, however, prevent him from doing full justice to the viands before him, nor from draining to the last drop the contents of the flask. Inspired by the potent liquid, he laughed at his former fears, sprang upon the bench, and committed a hundred other antics and extravagancies. But as the fumes of the wine evaporated, his valour declined; until, like Acres’s, it fairly “oozed out at his fingers’ ends.”
He then began to consider whether it might not be possible to escape. With this view, he examined the embrazures, but they were grated, and defied his efforts to pass through. He next tried the door, and to his great surprise found it unfastened; having, most probably, been left open intentionally by Wolfytt. As may be supposed, Xit did not hesitate to avail himself of the chance thus unexpectedly offered him. Issuing forth, he hurried up a small spiral stone staircase, which brought him to the entrance of the upper chamber. The door was ajar, and peeping cautiously through it, he perceived Nightgall and Wolfytt, both asleep; the former reclining with his face on the table, which was covered with fragments of meat and bread, goblets, and a large pot of wine; and the latter, extended at full length, on the floor. It was evident, from their heavy breathing and disordered attire, they had been drinking deeply.
Stepping cautiously into the chamber, which in size and form exactly corresponded with that below, Xit approached the sleepers. A bunch of keys hung at Nightgall’s girdle—the very bunch he had taken once before,—and the temptation to possess himself of them was irresistible. Creeping up to the jailor, and drawing the poignard suspended at his right side from out its sheath, he began to sever his girdle. While he was thus occupied, the keys slightly jingled, and Nightgall, half-awakened by the sound, put his hand to his belt. Finding all safe, as he imagined, he disposed himself to slumber again, while Xit who had darted under the table at the first alarm, as soon as he thought it prudent, recommenced his task, and the keys were once more in his possession.
As he divided the girdle, a piece of paper fell from it; and glancing at it, he perceived it was an order from the council to let the bearer pass at any hour whithersoever he would, through the fortress. Thrusting it into his jerkin, and carrying the keys as carefully as he could to prevent their clanking, he quitted the room, and mounted another short staircase, which brought him to the roof.
It was just getting light as Xit gained the battlements, and he was immediately challenged by the sentinel. On producing the order, however, he was allowed to pass, and crossing the roof towards the south, he descended another short spiral staircase, and emerged from an open door on the ballium wall, along which he proceeded.
On the way, he encountered three more sentinels, all of whom allowed him to pass on sight of the order. Passing through an arched door-way he mounted a flight of steps, and reached the roof of the Broad Arrow Tower.
Here he paused to consider what course he should pursue. The point upon which he stood commanded a magnificent view on every side of the ramparts and towers of the fortress. Immediately before him was the Wardrobe Tower—now removed, but then connected by an irregular pile of buildings with the Broad Arrow Tower,—while beyond it frowned the grey walls of the White Tower.
On the left was the large court where the masque had been given by the Earl of Devonshire, at which he had played so distinguished a part, surrounded on the west and the south by the walls of the palace. On the right, the view comprehended the chain of fortifications as far as the Flint Tower, with the range of store-houses and other buildings in front of them. At the back ran the outer line of ramparts, leading northward to the large circular bastion, still existing, and known as the Brass Mount; and southward to the structure denominated the Tower leading to the Iron Gate, and now termed the Devil’s Battery. Further on, was to be seen London Bridge with its pile of houses, and the tower of Saint Saviour’s Church formed a prominent object in the picture..
But Xit’s attention was not attracted to the view. He only thought how he could make good his escape, and where he could hide himself in case of pursuit. After debating with himself for some time, he determined to descend to the lowest chamber of the fortification on which he stood and see whether it had any communication with the subterranean passages of which he possessed the keys.
Accordingly, he retraced the steps he had just mounted, and continued to descend till he reached an arched door. Unlocking it with one of the keys from his bunch, he entered a dark passage, along which he proceeded at a swift pace. His course was speedily checked by another door, but succeeding in unfastening it, he ran on as fast as his legs could carry him, till he tumbled headlong down a steep flight of steps. Picking himself up he proceeded more cautiously, and arrived, after some time, without further obstacle, at a lofty, and as he judged from the sound, vaulted chamber.
To his great dismay, though he searched carefully round it, he could find no exit from this chamber, and he was about to retrace his course, when he discovered a short ladder laid against the side of the wall. It immediately occurred to him that this might be used as a communication with some secret door, and rearing it against the wall, he mounted, and feeling about, to his great joy encountered a bolt.
Drawing it aside, a stone door slowly revolved on its hinges, and disclosed a small cell in which a female was seated before a table with a lamp burning upon it. She raised her head at the sound, and revealed the features of Cicely.
Xit uttered an exclamation of astonishment, and rushing towards her, expressed his joy at seeing her. Cicely was equally delighted at the sight of the dwarf, and explained to him that she had been thus long forcibly detained a prisoner by Nightgall.
“Your captivity is at an end,” said Xit, as her relation was concluded. “I am come to deliver you, and restore you to your lover. I am afraid he won’t think your beauty improved—but I am sure he won’t like you the worse for that. Come along. Lean on me. I will support you.”
They were just emerging from the cell, when hasty footsteps were heard approaching, and a man entered the vaulted chamber, bearing a torch. It was Nightgall. His looks were wild and furious, and on seeing the dwarf and his companion, he uttered an exclamation of rage, and hurried towards them. Cicely ran screaming to the cell, while Xit, brandishing Night-gall’s own poniard, threatened to stab him if he dared to mount the ladder.