"You are watchman tonight, Thomas, are you not?
See that all doors are barred so that we may sleep without fear of Spanish thieves.

Rest you well, Peter.

Nay, I do not come yet; I have letters to send to Spain by the ship which sails to-morrow night." When Peter had gone, John Castell extinguished all the lamps save one.
This he took in his hand and passed from the hall into an apartment that in old days, when this was a noble's house, had been the private chapel.
There was an altar in it, and over the altar a crucifix.

For a few moments Castell knelt before the altar, for even now, at dead of night, how knew he what eyes might watch him?
Then he rose and, lamp in hand, glided behind it, lifted some tapestry, and pressed a spring in the panelling beneath.

It opened, revealing a small secret chamber built in the thickness of the wall and without windows; a mere cupboard that once perhaps had been a place where a priest might robe or keep the sacred vessels.
In this chamber was a plain oak table on which stood candles and an ark of wood, also some rolls of parchment.