trangled him.

And just then, through the high, stained-glass window of the hall, a
black arrow crashed, and struck, and stuck quivering, in the midst of
the long table.

Sir Oliver, with a loud scream, fell fainting on the rushes; while the
knight, followed by Dick, dashed into the court and up the nearest
corkscrew stair to the battlements. The sentries were all on the alert.
The sun shone quietly on green lawns dotted with trees, and on the
wooded hills of the forest which enclosed the view. There was no sign of
a besieger.

"Whence came that shot?" asked the knight.

"From yonder clump, Sir Daniel," returned a sentinel.

The knight stood a little, musing. Then he turned to Dick. "Dick," he
said, "keep me an eye upon these men; I leave you in charge here. As for
the priest, he shall clear himself, or I will know the reason why. I do
almost begin to share in your suspicions. He shall swear, trust me, or
we shall prove him guilty."

Dick answered somewhat coldly, and the knight, giving him a piercing
glance, hurriedly returned to the hall. His first glance was for the
arrow. It was the first of these missiles he had seen, and as he turned
it to and fro, the dark hue of it touched him with some fear. Again
there was some writing: one word--"Earthed."

"Ay," he broke out, "they know I am home, then. Earthed! Ay, but there
is not a dog among them fit to dig me out."

Sir Oliver had come to himself, and now scrambled to his feet.

"Alack, Sir Daniel!" he moaned, "y' 'ave sworn a dread oath; y'are
doomed to the end of time."

"Ay," returned the knight, "I have sworn an oath, indeed, thou
chucklehead; but thyself shalt swear a greater. It shall be on the
blessed cross of Holywood. Look to it; get the words ready. It shall be
sworn to-night."

"Now, may Heaven lighten you!" replied the priest; "may Heaven incline
your heart from this iniquity!"

"Look you, my good father," said Sir Daniel, "if y'are for piety, I say
no more; ye begin late, that is all. But if y'are in any sense bent
upon wisdom, hear me. This lad beginneth to irk me like a wasp. I have a
need for him, for I would sell his marriage. But I tell you, in all
plainness, if that he continue to weary me, he shall go join his father.
I give orders now to change him to the chamber above the chapel. If that
ye can swear your innocency with a good, solid oath and an assured
countenance, it is well; the lad will be at peace a little, and I will
spare him.