hey told a marvellous
tale:--that Clarenham had placed them here to deliver you up to the
enemy, whom they were to admit by a secret passage--and that they would
have done it, long since, save that you and your Squire not only
discovered the passage, but showed such vigilance, and so frustrated
all their plans, that they firmly believed that you held commerce with
the foul fiend. Did you, in truth, suspect their treachery?"

"Yes," replied Eustace, looking at Arthur. "The recognition of Le
Borgne Basque in the Seneschal would have been sufficient to set us on
our guard."

"But the passage?" asked Sir John, "what knowledge had you of that? for
they vow that you could never have discovered it but by art magic."

"We found it by long and diligent search."

"And what led you to search, Sir Eustace? I you can clear up the
matter, it will be the better for you; for this accusation of
witchcraft will hang to you like a burr--the more, perhaps, as you are
somewhat of a scholar!"

"It was I who warned him of it, Sir Knight," said Arthur, stepping
forward.

"You, young Page!" exclaimed Sir John. "Are you jesting? Ha! then you
must have, page-like, been eaves-dropping!--I should scarce have
thought it of you."

"Oh, uncle!" exclaimed Arthur, in great distress, "you do not believe
me capable of aught so unknightly? Do but say that you, at least,
trust my word, when I say that I learnt their plots by no means
unbecoming the son of Sir Reginald Lynwood."

"I believe you fully, Arthur," replied his uncle; "the more, that I
should have been the last person to whom you would have brought
information gained in such a fashion."

"And how was it gained?" asked Sir John.

"That," said the boy, "is a secret I am bound never to disclose."

"Strange, passing strange," repeated the old Knight, shaking his head.
"Clarenham and Ashton would scarce have taken any into their councils
who would warn you. And you will or can tell no more?"

"No more," replied the boy. "I was bidden secretly to warn my uncle of
the entrance to the vaults, and of the treachery of this villain
garrison. I did so, and he who says aught dishonourable of him or of
me lies in his throat."

"Can you read this riddle, Sir Eustace?" asked Chandos, looking rather
suspiciously at the very faint glow which mantled in the white cheek of
the wounded Knight.

"I know nothing but what he has told you, Sir John," replied he.

"Nor guess aught?" said Sir Jo