sheaves of arrows, beams hewn to make engines of war, bags of grain, and a variety of weapons, and supplies of whatever might be needed to withstand a long siege.
All was in order, for Lady Mortimer was a good chatelaine, and by the aid of her servitors had faithfully carried out her husband's instructions to keep the stronghold always ready for attack.
"In these times," he had said, "the attack often comes before the herald; and the only safety is in leaving nothing to be done on the arrival of the enemy. A well-ruled castle should need only to hoist its draw and drop its portcullis in the face of a besieger."
Satisfied at last that all was in good condition, Francis Mortimer one evening called into the great hall of the castle his wife, his son, his ward, and the trusted veteran soldier. Then, ordering all others to withdraw, he explained why he believed that there might be reason to expect an attack during his absence over-sea.
"Twenty miles southward, as you know," said he, "is the manor of Guy Ferrers, who claims this castle by right of descent from an ancestor who, for aught I know, may one day have owned it. As to that, it need not concern you, since the claim has been examined by his Majesty's coun-
