expeditions, and would sit for hours thinking over all sorts of wild
plans by which he might penetrate to him and aid him to escape. He was
never tired of questioning Malcolm Anderson as to the prisons in which,
if still alive, his father would be likely to be confined. He would ask
as to their appearance, the height of their walls, whether they were
moated or not, and whether other houses abutted closely upon them. One
day Malcolm asked him the reason of these questions, and he replied, "Of
course I want to see how it will be possible to get my father out." And
although Malcolm tried to impress upon him that it would be an almost
impossible task even to discover in which prison his father was kept, he
would not allow himself to be discouraged.

"There must be some way of finding out, Malcolm. You tell me that
prisoners are not even known by their name to the warders, but only under
a number. Still someone must know -- there must be lists kept of those in
prison, and I shall trust to my mother to find out for me. A great lady
as she is must be able to get at people if she sets about it, and as
certainly she must have loved my father very very much, or she never
would have married him secretly, and got into such trouble for it. I am
sure she will do her best when she finds that you and I have come over to
get him out. When we know that, I think we ought to be able to manage.
You could get employment as a warder, or I could go disguised as a woman,
or as a priest, or somehow. I feel sure we shall succeed if we do but
find out that he is alive and where he is."

Malcolm knew too much about the strong and well guarded prisons of France
to share in the boy's sanguine hopes, but he did not try to discourage
him. He thought that with such an object in life before him the boy would
devote himself all the more eagerly to exercises which would strengthen
his arm, increase his skill with weapons, and render him a brave and