Immediately above the ancient sentry at the gate was an open casement with some homely flowers in the window, from behind which good-humoured girls' faces were peeping.

They were watching the young traveller dressed in black as he walked up gazing towards the castle, and the ebony attendant who followed the gentleman's steps also accoutred in mourning.

So was he at the gate in mourning, and the girls when they came out had black ribbons.
To Harry's surprise, the old man accosted him by his name.

"You have had a nice ride to Hexton, Master Harry, and the sorrel carried you well." "I think you must be Lockwood," said Harry, with rather a tremulous voice, holding out his hand to the old man.

His grandfather had often told him of Lockwood, and how he had accompanied the Colonel and the young Viscount in Marlborough's wars forty years ago.