Stop him, I say.'
'He's gone,' said Eccles quietly, but with waking uneasiness.
'Run after him,' Dorothy almost screamed.
'Stop him at the gate. It is young Heywood of Redware, one of the
busiest of the round-heads.'
Eccles was already running and shouting and whistling. She heard his
feet resounding from the bridge. With trembling hands she flung a
cloak about her, and sped bare-footed down the grand staircase and
along the north side of the court to the bell-tower, where she
seized the rope of the alarm-bell, and pulled with all her strength.
A horrid clangour tore the stillness of the night, re-echoed with
yelping response from the multitudinous buildings around. Window
after window flew open, head after head was popped out--amongst the
first that of the marquis, shouting to know what was amiss. But the
question found no answer. The courts began to fill. Some said the
castle was on fire; others, that the wild beasts were all out;
others, that Waller and Cromwell had scaled the rampart, and were
now storming the gates; others, that Eccles had turned traitor and
admitted the enemy.
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