If that ye stammer or blench, or anyways boggle at the
swearing, he will not believe you; and by the mass, he shall die. There
is for your thinking on."

"The chamber above the chapel!" gasped the priest.

"That same," replied the knight. "So if ye desire to save him, save him;
and if ye desire not, prithee, go to, and let me be at peace! For an I
had been a hasty man, I would already have put my sword through you, for
your intolerable cowardice and folly. Have ye chosen? Say!"

"I have chosen," said the priest. "Heaven pardon me, I will do evil for
good. I will swear for the lad's sake."

"So is it best!" said Sir Daniel. "Send for him, then, speedily. Ye
shall see him alone. Yet I shall have an eye on you. I shall be here in
the panel room."

The knight raised the arras and let it fall again behind him. There was
the sound of a spring opening; then followed the creaking of trod
stairs.

Sir Oliver, left alone, cast a timorous glance upward at the
arras-covered wall, and crossed himself with every appearance of terror
and contrition.

"Nay, if he is in the chapel room," the priest murmured, "were it at my
soul's cost, I must save him."

Three minutes later, Dick, who had been summoned by another messenger,
found Sir Oliver standing by the hall table, resolute and pale.

"Richard Shelton," he said, "ye have required an oath from me. I might
complain, I might deny you; but my heart is moved towards you for the
past, and I will even content you as ye choose. By the true cross of
Holywood, I did not slay your father."

"Sir Oliver," returned Dick, "when first we read John Amend-All's paper,
I was convinced of so much. But suffer me to put two questions. Ye did
not slay him; granted. But had ye no hand in it?"

"None," said Sir Oliver. And at the same time he began to contort his
face, and signal with his mouth and eyebrows, like one who desired to
convey a warning, yet dared not utter a sound.

Dick regarded him in wonder; then he turned and looked all about him at
the empty hall.

"What make ye?" he inquired.

"Why, naught," returned the priest, hastily smoothing his countenance.
"I make naught; I do but suffer; I am sick. I--I--prithee, Dick, I must
begone. On the true cross of Holywood, I am clean innocent alike of
violence or treachery. Content ye, good lad. Farewell!"

And he made his escape from the apartment with unusual alacrity.

Dick remained rooted to the spot, his eyes wandering about the r