with boats; and we should see their
preparations long before they could attack us."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Roy, thoughtfully. "The only thing I dread is
a surprise."

"Surprise!" cried the secretary, starting violently. "Don't say that."

"Sorry I did say it," replied Roy, smiling; "for it made you jump as if
you had been shot."

"Yes, Roy; sieges do not agree with me. But whatever made you say
that?"

"Only because I think it possible, in spite of all our precautions, that
the enemy might find a way to get into the place; that's all."

"What a horrible idea!" faltered the secretary.

"Well, I suppose it is," said Roy; "but don't let it keep you awake
to-night, Master Pawson. Perhaps it is impossible."

"Impossible? Of course it is. There, good-night. I must go and lie
down."

"And I am late in going to my mother," said Roy.

"Then good--good-night. Make your men keep the strictest of watches for
all our sakes, my brave young castellan!"

"I will," said Roy; and each went his way.

"Now, if I didn't begin to know that Master Pawson really liked me, I
should have thought he was sneering," said the lad to himself. "I'm
always fancying people look down upon me because I'm such a mere boy.
But he's trusty enough, as he has shown us. I wish he hadn't called me
`my brave young castellan,' though. It sounds so sugary and oily.
Surprise--surprise?" he thought. "No, they couldn't surprise us, unless
they got in by a secret passage; and if there were one, they would never
find it out. If we couldn't, it isn't likely that strangers would. I
wish Ben and I had had another big search. All this put it out of our
heads. I'll ask mother if she thinks it possible there is one. No, I
will not," he said to himself, as he reached the door. "It would
frighten her into fits. She'd be too nervous to go to sleep, and want
me to let all the men search the dungeons, and make them nervous, too.
Bah! It's only an old woman's tale. I don't believe in such things."

He opened the door, to be welcomed by Lady Royland, who sprang from her
chair, and proudly monopolised the task of taking off her son's helmet,
cuirass, and back-piece, after unbuckling his sword.

"My duty, Roy," she said. "The one I was proud to perform for your
father. Ah, my boy, if he were only here that I might assist him now!
But no news, Roy; no news. It is cruel work."

"No news is good news, mother," cried Roy, cheerily. "Come and