One morning, however, going somewhat earlier than was his wont, he met the monk, brother Paul, coming down the stairs from the knight's apartments. The cenobite gave him a grim smile, but merely added his benedicite and passed on. Ned Dyram paused and mused before he entered. More than once he had asked himself, what it was that detained Sir Simeon of Roydon so long in Ghent. The Court was absent--there was little to see, and less to gain; and the visit of father Paul gave him fresh matter for reflection. But Ned Dyram was one who, judging by slight indications, always prepared himself against probable results; and he now divined that the discovery of the truth in regard to Ella might not be far off. He found no change in Simeon of Roydon when he entered, and the morning passed away as usual; but on the following day the knight received him with a smile so mixed in its expression that Dyram felt the hilt of his anelace, and returned him his look with one as doubtful. "Shut the door, Master Dyram," said Sir Simeon of Roydon. The man obeyed without the least hesitation; and the knight proceeded, "Think you, fellow, that it is wise and worthy to cheat and to deceive?" "On proper occasions, and with proper men," replied Ned Dyram, calmly. "Ah, you do?" cried the knight, with his brow bent; "Then let me tell you that you will deceive me no more." "That depends upon circumstances and opportunity," answered Ned Dyram, with the same imperturbable effrontery as before. "I dare say you will not give me the means, if you can help it." "What, if I take from you the opportunity of cheating any one again?" exclaimed Sir Simeon of Roydon. "What if, as you well deserve, I call up my men, and bid them dispose of you as they know how?" "You will not do that," replied Dyram, without a shade of emotion. "Why should I not?" demanded the knight, fiercely. "What should stop me? Out of these walls no secrets are likely to pass. Why should I not, I say?"