they intended to lie in ambush, was at a considerable distance, nor
was the time of the arrival of the convoy absolutely certain.

The expedition proved completely successful, and on the morning
of the third day the rising sun beheld Gaston d'Aubricour riding
triumphantly at the head of his little band, in the midst of which
was a long line of heavily-laden baggage mules. The towers of
Chateau Norbelle appeared in his view, when suddenly with a cry of
amazement he perceived that the pennon of St. George and the banner
of Lynwood were both absent from the Keep. He could scarcely believe
his eyes, but forcing his horse onward with furious impetuosity to
obtain a nearer view, he discovered that it was indeed true.

"The miscreants!" he shouted. "Oh, my Knight, my Knight!" and
turning to the men who followed him, he exclaimed, "There is yet
hope! Will you see our trust betrayed, our noble Knight foully
murdered and delivered to his enemies, or will ye strike a bold
stroke in his defence? He who is not dead to honour, follow me!"

There was a postern, of which Eustace had given Gaston the key, on
his departure, and thither the faithful Squire hastened, without
looking back to see whether he was followed by many or few--in fact,
rather ready to die with Sir Eustace than hoping to rescue him. The
ten Englishmen and some eight Frenchmen, infected by the desperation
of his manner, followed him closely as he rushed up the slope, dashed
through the moat, and in another moment, opening the door, burst into
the court. There stood a party of the garrison, upon whom he rushed
with a shout of "Death, death to the traitor!" Gaston's arm did the
work of three, as he hewed down the villains, who, surprised and
discomfited, made feeble resistance. Who they were, or how many, he