One dark night, a night without stars or moon, a dark figure crept towards Sir George’s castle. With a practiced arm he threw a rope to the top of the battlements and it caught silently. Catching hold of the knots on the rope he climbed up and was soon at the top. Then he climbed down the other side and slid into the courtyard.
Surmounting other difficulties, he made it to the inner part of the castle. Then he was at Sir George’s room. He stepped carefully over the guard lying in front of the door, but as he did so, was grabbed by his legs. Yelling, he realized that the guard had been merely dozing.
Guards came running from every direction and found the two men wrestling furiously. Quickly, they pulled them apart and jerked the prisoner to his feet. Sir George, meanwhile, had rushed out in his nightclothes, sword in hand. After questioning the guard if he was alright and praising him for his bravery, Sir George turned to the prisoner.
“Who are you, and why did you come here?!” He commanded in a threatening voice. The man remained stubbornly silent.
“Looks like he isn’t going to talk, my lord,” one of them said
“Maybe when he’s been worked on a little he’ll feel more like talking!”
“Bill, for shame! Don’t even say that, it makes me shiver! Besides, the master don’t like torture. And,” he added under his breath, “I don’t either.”
“Maybe if we brought his boss over here he’d feel more chatty.” suggested another.
“How can we if we don’t know who he is?” still another said.
“Don’t know who ‘e is! The problem with you, Porky, is that you don’t have ‘alf a brain. Anyhows, it only takes a quarter o’ one to figger out that this ‘ere,” he jabbed his finger in the general direction of the prisoner, “stumble-footed a-ssasinator was sent by a sartin jealous block’ead named Dudley Cummins.”
“Alright, boys, cut the chatter,” Sir George broke in. “Take this fellow down to the dungeon and I’ll figure out what’s to be done with him.”
The prisoner was led away and soon the castle was quiet once again.