Then Donal set to with his file upon the ring: her
hand was much too swollen to admit of its being removed as it had
been put on. It was not easy to cut it, partly from the constant
danger of hurting her swollen hand, partly that the rust filled and
blunted the file.
"There!" he said at last, "you are free! And now, my lady, you must
take some rest. The door to the passage is secure. Lock this one
inside, and I will draw the sofa across it outside: if he come
wandering in the night, and get into this room, he will not reach
your door."
Weary as he was, Donal could not sleep much. In the middle of the
night he heard the earl's door open, and watched and followed him.
He went to the oak door, and tried in vain to open it.
"She has taken it!" he muttered, in what seemed to Donal an
awe-struck voice.
All night long he roamed the house a spirit grievously tormented. In
the gray of the morning, having perhaps persuaded himself that the
whole affair was a trick of his imagination, he went back to his
room.
In the morning Donal left the house, having first called to Arctura
and warned her to lock the door of the sitting-room the moment he
was gone. He ran all the way down to the inn, paid his bill, bought
some things in the town for their breakfast, and taking the mare,
rode up to the castle, and rang the bell. No notice was taken. He
went and put up his animal, then let himself into the house by
Baliol's tower, and began to sing.
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