"Sir Henry said he was to be kept in the North Tower," ventured
Eustace.
"Did he, indeed," sneeringly retorted the chamberlain. "You had better be off or I will have you whipped;" and smarting under the rejoinder, Eustace, who considered prudence the better part of valour, took the hint so broadly given and retired.
An hour later, as Manners sat brooding in his deep and lonely dungeon, he was startled by hearing the key turn slowly in the lock, and a moment later Eustace slipped into the cell and the door was closed and locked again.
"Oh, Master Manners," he cried, as he dropped on his knees, "this is a shameful thing; what can I do, I would help thee if I might? I am disgusted with my lord; I loathe him and I shall flee from him."
"'Tis no fault of thine, thou art young," kindly responded Manners, "but canst thou tell me aught of Mistress Dorothy Vernon?"
"She is safe in the topmost room of the tower," he replied.
"Is she in danger yet?"
"Nay, she is safe, and will be treated well. Simon Greenwood's dame says my lord left strange commands about her comfort, and she has already rated Simon soundly for his rudeness to the maiden."
"Hist," whispered a voice through the keyhole, "Simon is coming."
Eustace threw up his hands in blank despair. "O, Master Manners," he ejaculated, "I am lost; Simon, would kill me if he finds me here."