'Yes, lady. She was one of the best of women,' answered Saul sorrowfully. 'I knew it was you,' he added, 'who was so good to her, because he who told me all about it said that the lady who tried to save her looked like an angel, with hair of gold, a face like pink wild roses and eyes like big speedwells. Your face is rather too white, but the other part of you answers to the description exactly.' 'I certainly tried to protect a poor old woman from her wicked enemies,' said I; 'and I remember now one of the charges against her was that she had done away with her own grandson. I suppose that was you?' 'Yes, lady. And it was a wicked lie. My master it was who stole me away from home and brought me here to be his slave and turnkey. I hate him. He is cruel as death. He has a gallows, and he kills people without any trial, or with only a mock trial.' 'Terrible!' I exclaimed, and was just beginning to ask questions about Sir Hubert when footsteps were to be heard returning, and Saul whispered-- 'I will try to save you, for the sake of what you did for my dear, good grandmother----' he broke off, for, alas! he had said too much. 'Dog!' cried Sir Claudius, kicking him so brutally that the poor lad fell upon his knees with a cry of pain. 'You do that in my presence!' exclaimed I. 'And yet you profess to love me?' 'Silence, in the lad's presence!' commanded Sir Claudius gruffly. 'What business had he to whisper to you? What was he saying?' 'Does it matter what a young boy says?' asked I, remembering just in time that it might be better policy to soothe than to anger him. 'You dare to whisper to a prisoner in my castle?' exclaimed Sir Claudius, turning again upon the lad and beginning to kick and cuff him unmercifully. Every cry of the poor boy's went to my heart. I seemed to feel each blow myself, and begged pitifully for mercy. But I might as well have spoken to the great stone walls. Sir Claudius did not stop until poor Saul lay motionless upon the ground; then, leaving him stunned, the tyrant seized my hand and drew me from the spot, through the darkness to the far side of the hall, where there was an immense circular opening in the ground. 'Look down. Look into the dungeon below,' he said. I peered into the gloomy depths and saw a man lying on some straw with his back toward us; but it was so dark that I could discern neither his clothes, nor exact size, nor the colour of his hair. I simply saw that there was a man and that he was lying down in a helpless, hopeless attitude, as if too weak to stand. 'That is Sir Hubert Blair,' said Sir Claudius. 'He has not fared so well as you. He has scarcely had such sumptuous lodgings. He is ill. Ha! ha! If we do not bring him to the gallows quickly, or release him, he will spare us the trouble.' A bitter cry fell from my lips. I seemed to be in a hideous nightmare. The man in the dungeon started, but did not turn round. 'Hubert! Hubert!' I called.