"Be silent, I beseech thee, Sir John!" cried Edgar in desperation, as he realized how fearfully difficult would be the task of conveying the sick knight from out the castle did he persist in his wild cries. Then he placed his arm round him soothingly and tried to still his restless tossings, talking quietly to him the while. "See, now, Sir John, we are going to take thee to the lady Gertrude. She shall tend thee. Keep thee still and all shall be well. Talk not so, dear Sir John, but rest thy head on my shoulder. Soon shall we be out of this fearsome castle and breathe freely the open air of heaven." Then in an urgent whisper he went on: "Come, Peter, there is not an instant to be lost. He is quieting. Wrap those rugs around him and take him gently by the legs. I will bear his head and shoulders." For the moment the knight’s cries sank into indistinct murmurs. He seemed to feel that friends at last were around him, and to be content to resign himself quietly into their hands. "Whither shall I lead?" whispered Peter, as he opened the door and prepared to issue forth. "Boldly down the stairs, which should be at the end of the passage. They lead to the main door into the courtyard. If any see us ’twill be Duprez and his man conveying the sick prisoner to another chamber. If any seek to know more we must silence them, and then on." "Dare we ascend the walls with Sir John in such sore plight, Master Edgar?" "Nay, ’tis to the drawbridge we must go. We cannot lower a sick man from the walls into the castle moat. We must surprise the sentinel at the gates, and lower away before the alarm is sounded. If only Sir John will keep as quiet as he is now, we may count upon taking the guard unawares. He will doubtless be facing outwards to the foe, and not inwards to the silent courtyard." Leaving their torch behind them, the two young men crept slowly and silently along the passage with their burden. Halfway along they turned a corner and came full upon a door which stood half-open close by. Light streamed forth, and inside they could hear the regular thud of ironclad heels as a man paced slowly up and down. Somehow the sound seemed to excite the sick knight they were bearing beyond endurance. Springing suddenly half out of their arms, he cried with tremendous energy: "To-morrow--in the lists--shalt thou answer for thy crimes, Gervaise de Maupas. At the point of lance or sword--will I prove thy baseness. _Laissez aller_! On! on! Good steed--stout lance--do thy devoir. Hah! De Maupas, thou art down--yield thee----" "What have we here?" came in a voice of thunder from the room, and the door was flung wide open by a hand rough and strong. In the doorway, standing out clearly against the light, appeared the short, thick figure of Eustace de Brin, clad from head to foot in dull black armour.