lest even to himself he should own his uneasiness. It was not seemly
that the captain of the Douglas guard should be frightened by shadows.

Passing the corridor which led towards the sleeping rooms of the maid
and her companion, he ascended to the roof of the castle, thrusting
aside the turret door and issuing upon the wide, open spaces with an
assured step. The cool breeze from the west restored him to himself in
a moment. The waning moon cast a pale light across the landscape, and
he could see the tents on the castle island glimmer greyish white
beneath him. Beyond that again was the shining confluence of the
sluggish river about the isle, and the dark line of the woods of
Balmaghie opposite. He had begun to meditate on the rapid changes of
circumstance which had overtaken him, when suddenly a shrill and
piercing shriek rang out, coming up through the castle beneath, again
and again repeated. It was like the cry of a child in the grip of
instant and deadly terror.

Sholto's heart gave a great bound. That something untoward should
happen on this the first night of his charge was too disastrous. He
drew his sword and set in his lips the silver call which depended from
the chain of office the Earl had thrown about his neck when he made
him captain of his guard.

His feet hardly touched the stone stairs as he flew downwards, and
wings were added to his haste by the sounds of fear which continued to
increase. In another moment he was upon the last step of the turnpike
and at the entrance of the corridor which led to the rooms of the
little Lady Margaret and Maud Lindesay.

As Sholto came rushing down the steep descent from the roof he caught