“John, thou hast spoken of a knightly quest that would win no praise from man, but yet be such as a true knight would fain undertake.  Would not the rescue of yon wretched boy from the evil thraldom of that wicked sorcerer be such a task as that?  Is not Basildene ours?  Is it not for us to free it from the curse of such pollution?  Is not that child one of the oppressed and wronged that it is the duty of a true servant of the old chivalry to rescue at all costs?

“Gaston, wilt thou go with me?  Shall we snatch from the clutches of this devilish old man the boy whose story we have heard today?  Methinks I can never rest happy till the thing is done.  Will not a curse light upon the very house itself if these dark deeds go on within its walls?  Who can have a better right to avert such curse than we —­ its rightful lords?”

Gaston sprang to his feet, and threw back his head with a proud and defiant gesture.

“Verily I will go with thee, Brother.  I would gladly strike a blow for the freedom of the boy and against the despoiler of our mother’s house.  I would fain go this very day.”

Both brothers looked to John, as if asking his sanction for the act.  He closed his book, and raised his eyes with a smile; but he advocated prudence, and patience too.

“In truth, methinks it would be a deed of charity and true chivalry, yet one by no means without its peril and its risk.  Old Sanghurst is a wily and a cruel foe, and failure would but mean more tyranny and suffering for the miserable victim he holds in his relentless hands.  It might lead also to some mysterious vengeance upon you yourselves.  There are ugly whispers breathed abroad about the old man and his evil practices.  Travellers through these forest tracks, richly laden, have been known to disappear, and no man has heard of them more.  It is rumoured that they have been seized and done to death by the rapacious owners of Basildene, and that the father and son are growing wealthy beyond what any man knows by the plunder they thus obtain.”

“But if they hold the secret of the philosopher’s stone, sure they would not need to fall upon travellers by the way!”

John slowly shook his head, a thoughtful smile upon his face.

“For mine own part,” he said quietly, “I have no belief in that stone, or in that power of alchemy after which men since the beginning of time have been vainly striving.  They may seek and seek, but I trow they will never find it; and I verily believe if found it would but prove a worthless boon.  For in the hands of a rapacious master, so quickly would gold be poured upon the world that soon its value would be lost, and it would be no more prized than the base metals we make our horseshoes of.  It is not the beauty of gold that makes men covet it.  It is because it is rare that it is precious.  If this philosopher’s stone were to be found, that rareness would speedily disappear, and men would cease to prize a thing that could be made more easily than corn may be grown.”