DEALS WITH AN ESCAPE AND A JOURNEY Five scouts' lanterns burned smokily in the ground room of the keep when Dickson ushered his charges through its cavernous door.

The lights flickered in the gusts that swept after them and whistled through the slits of the windows, so that the place was full of monstrous shadows, and its accustomed odour of mould and disuse was changed to a salty freshness.

Upstairs on the first floor Thomas Yownie had deposited the ladies' baggage, and was busy making beds out of derelict iron bedsteads and the wraps brought from their room.

On the ground floor on a heap of litter covered by an old scout's blanket lay Heritage, with Dougal in attendance.
The Chieftain had washed the blood from the Poet's brow, and the touch of cold water was bringing him back his senses.

Saskia with a cry flew to him, and waved off Dickson who had fetched one of the bottles of liqueur brandy.