Still, notwithstanding its dilapidated condition, and that it is the mere
shell of its former self, its appearance is highly picturesque. The walls
are of prodigious thickness, and the deep embrasures within them are
almost perfect; while a secret staircase may still be tracked partly
round the building. Amid the rubbish choking up its lower chamber
grows a young tree, green and flourishing-a type, it is to be hoped, of
the restoration of the structure.
Conducted to a low vaulted chamber in this tower, the prisoner was
cast upon its floor-for he was still hound hand and foot-and left alone
and in darkness. But he was not destined to continue in this state long.
The door of the dungeon opened, and the guard ushered in the tall
Franciscan friar.
"What ho! dog of a prisoner," he cried, "here is a holy man come to pass
the night with you in prayer."
"He may take his Ave Maries and Paternosters elsewhere-I want them
not," replied Fenwolf moodily.
"You would prefer my bringing Herne the Hunter, no doubt," rejoined the
guard, laughing at his own jest; "but this is a physician for your soul.
The saints help you in your good work, father; you will have no easy
task.
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