The abbot complied, and partly descended the ladder.

"I see no one," he said.

"T' neet's dark," replied Hal o' Nabs, who was close behind him. "Ebil
canna be far off. Hist! ey hear him--go on."

The abbot was now obliged to comply, though he did so with, reluctance.
Presently he found himself upon the roof of a building, which he knew to
be connected with the mill by a covered passage running along the south
bank of the Calder. Scarcely had he set foot there, than Hal o' Nabs
jumped after him, and, seizing the ladder, cast it into the stream, thus
rendering Paslew's return impossible.

"Neaw, lort abbut," he cried, with a low, exulting laugh, "yo hanna
brok'n yor word, an ey'n kept moine. Yo're free agen your will."

"You have destroyed me by your mistaken zeal," cried the abbot,
reproachfully.

"Nowt o't sort," replied Hal; "ey'n saved yo' fro' destruction. This
way, lort abbut--this way."

And taking Paslew's arm he led him to a low parapet, overlooking the
covered passage before described. Half an hour before it had been bright
moonlight, but, as if to favour the fugitive, the heavens had become
overcast, and a thick mist had arisen from the river.

"Ebil! Ebil!" cried Hal o' Nabs, leaning over the parapet.