“If he would have trusted me!” said Eustace.

“He hath been deceived by the flatterers who have gained his ear.  It should not have been thus had I been at court; but things have been much against my counsel.  It may be that I have been too plain spoken—­forgetting that he is not the boy who used to be committed to my charge—­it may be that he hath been over hasty—­and yet, when I look on his changed mien and wasted face, I can scarce blame him, nor must you, Sir Eustace, though cruel injustice hath, I fear, been done you.”

“I blame our glorious Prince!” exclaimed the young Knight.  “I would as soon blame the sun in heaven because the clouds hide his face from me for a time!”

“The clouds are likely to be dispersed with a vengeance,” said Chandos.  “The confession of yonder mutinous traitors will clear you from all that your accusers have said, by proving their villainy and baseness!”

“How?  Sanchez and his fellows?  Have they surrendered?”

“Yes.  They kept themselves shut up in Montfort’s tower until they lost all hope of relief from their friends without; then, being in fear of starvation, they were forced to surrender, and came forth, praying that their lives might be spared.  I, as you may suppose, would as lief have spared the life of a wolf, and the halters were already round their necks, when your dark-visaged Squire prayed me to attempt to gain a confession from them; and, sure enough, they told a marvellous tale:—­that Clarenham had placed them here to deliver you up to the enemy, whom they were to admit by a secret passage—­and that they would have done it, long since, save that you and your Squire not only discovered the passage, but showed such vigilance, and so frustrated all their plans, that they firmly believed that you held commerce with the foul fiend.  Did you, in truth, suspect their treachery?”

“Yes,” replied Eustace, looking at Arthur.  “The recognition of Le Borgne Basque in the Seneschal would have been sufficient to set us on our guard.”

“But the passage?” asked Sir John, “what knowledge had you of that? for they vow that you could never have discovered it but by art magic.”

“We found it by long and diligent search.”

“And what led you to search, Sir Eustace?  I you can clear up the matter, it will be the better for you; for this accusation of witchcraft will hang to you like a burr—­the more, perhaps, as you are somewhat of a scholar!”

“It was I who warned him of it, Sir Knight,” said Arthur, stepping forward.

“You, young Page!” exclaimed Sir John.  “Are you jesting?  Ha! then you must have, page-like, been eaves-dropping!—­I should scarce have thought it of you.”

“Oh, uncle!” exclaimed Arthur, in great distress, “you do not believe me capable of aught so unknightly?  Do but say that you, at least, trust my word, when I say that I learnt their plots by no means unbecoming the son of Sir Reginald Lynwood.”