At last I bethought me of my father's room, where even I, his son, had never been at night, and indeed but seldom in the day.

For it was the Hereditary Justicer's fancy to lodge himself in the high garret which ran right across the top of the Red Tower, and was entered only by a little ladder from the first turning of the same staircase by which I had run out upon the leads.
I went to the bottom of the garret turnpike.

The little barred door stood open, and I heard--I was sure that I heard--light, irregularly pattering footsteps moving about above.
It gave me strange shakings of my heart only to listen.

For, though I was noways afraid of my father myself, yet since I had never seen any man, woman, or child (save the Duke only) who did not quail at his approach, it was a curious feeling to think of the lonely little child skipping about up there, where abode the axe and the block--the axe which had done, I knew so well what, to her father only the night before.
So I mustered all my courage--not from any fear of Gottfried Gottfried, but rather from the uncertainty of what I should see, and quickly mounted the stair.
I shall never forget what I saw as I stood with my feet on the rickety hand-rail of the ladder.

The long dim garret was already half-lighted by the coming day.