BOULTON BLOTS HIS COPYBOOKIn the excitement of their dash from the dinner-table, Melissa had not noticed that the snow had stopped. Clouds hid the moon, but the night was dry and clear. The cold was pitiless—in the silence that had dropped down upon the dark void of the inner yard she could hear the dull reports of the ice in the river. All about her the castle walls stretched upward to the stars—the oblong of sky above the court was gemmed with them blazing brightly in the frosty air.
Earlier in the day the workmen had made a path through the snow from the Green Turret to the dividing gate. Melissa ran along it now to meet her father, who came hurrying towards her, spluttering with wrath. "It's unbelievable!" he stormed. "There's a dumb sentry on the gate who refused to let me pass, and
