"Here is our late host, Father Henriques, come to see how his guests are faring." Another half-hour and the waning moon rose, throwing a beam of light into their chamber; also they heard horse's hoofs again.

Going to the window, Peter looked out of it and saw the horse, a fine beast, being held by the landlord, then a man came and mounted it and, at some remark of his, turned his face upwards towards their window.

It was that of Father Henriques.
The two whispered together for a while till the priest blessed the landlord in Latin words and rode away, and again they heard the door of the house close.
"He is off to Granada, to warn Morella his master of our coming," said Castell, as they reseated themselves upon the beds.
"To warn Morella that we shall never come, perhaps; but we will beat him yet," replied Peter.
The night wore on, and Castell, who was very weary, sank back upon the bolster and began to doze, when suddenly the chair that was set upon the trap-door fell over with a great clatter, and he sprang up, asking what that noise might be.
"Only a rat," answered Peter, who saw no good in telling him the truth--namely, that thieves or murderers had tried to open the trap-door.
Then he crept down the room, felt the cord, to find that it was still uncut, and replaced the chair where it had been.

This done, Peter came back to the bed and threw himself down upon it as though he would slumber, though never was he more wide awake.

The weariness of Castell had overcome him again, however, for he snored at his side.
For a long while nothing further happened, although once the ray of moonlight was cut off, and for an instant Peter thought that he saw a face at the window.