and a hurrying here and there. The black knight half arose, grasping a
heavy iron mace that lay upon the bench beside him, and the next moment
Sir John Dale himself, as pale as death, walked into the antechamber. He
stopped in the very middle of the room. "I yield me to my Lord's grace
and mercy," said he to the black knight, and they were the last words he
ever uttered in this world.

The black knight shouted out some words of command, and swinging up the
iron mace in his hand, strode forward clanking towards Sir John, who
raised his arm as though to shield himself from the blow. Two or three
of those who stood in the hall without came running into the room with
drawn swords and bills, and little Myles, crying out with terror, hid
his face in his father's long gown.

The next instant came the sound of a heavy blow and of a groan, then
another blow and the sound of one falling upon the ground. Then the
clashing of steel, and in the midst Lord Falworth crying, in a dreadful
voice, "Thou traitor! thou coward! thou murderer!"

Master Robert snatched Myles away from his father, and bore him out of
the room in spite of his screams and struggles, and he remembered just
one instant's sight of Sir John lying still and silent upon his face,
and of the black knight standing above him, with the terrible mace in
his hand stained a dreadful red.

It was the next day that Lord and Lady Falworth and little Myles,
together with three of the more faithful of their people, left the
castle.

His memory of past things held a picture for Myles of old Diccon Bowman