ches, and possessing, in spite
of his years, a most repulsive physiognomy, advanced to meet him. His
doublet and hose were of murrey-colour; and his inflamed visage,
blood-shot eyes, fiery nose, and blotchy forehead, were in keeping with
the hue of his apparel. This was Joachim Tunstall, Deputy Warden of the
Fleet.

Behind him were some half-dozen jailers, attired in garments of
dark-brown frieze, and each having a large bunch of keys at his girdle.
All of them were stout, hard-featured men, and bore upon their
countenances the stamp of their vocation.

The warrant for Sir Jocelyn's committal to the Fleet was delivered by
the serjeant-at-arms to the deputy-warden; and the latter having duly
perused it, was conferring with one of the jailers as to where the
prisoner should be conducted, when a side-door was suddenly opened, and
Sir Giles Mompesson issuing from it, tapped the deputy-warden on the
shoulder.

"You need not consider where the prisoner is to be lodged, Master
Tunstall," he said, looking fixedly at Mounchensey all the while. "The
dungeon he is to occupy is the darkest, the deepest and the dampest in
the Fleet. It is that in which his father died. You know it well,
Grimbald," he added, to one of the burliest of the jailers. "Take him
thither at once, and I will go with you to see him safely bestowed.

"Pass on, Sir," he continued, with a smile of fiendish satisfaction, as
Mounchensey was led forth by the jailer.

Chapter XXIV.

The Abduction.

Night had come on, and Aveline was anxiously expecting the arrival of
her lover, when a loud knocking was heard at the door of the cottage;
and before the summons could be answered by Anthony Rocke, two persons
entered, and pushing past the old serving-man, who demanded their
business, and vainly endeavoured to oppose their progress, forced their
way into the presence of his mistress. Dame Sherborne was in an inner
room, but, alarmed by the noise, she flew to the aid of her charge, and
reached her at the same moment with the intruders. Her lamp threw its
light full upon their countenances; and when she found who they were,
she screamed and nearly let it fall, appearing to stand much more in
need of support than Aveline herself.

The foremost of the two was Sir Giles Mompesson, and his usually stern
and sinister features had acquired a yet more inauspicious cast, from
the deathlike paleness that bespread them, as well as from the fillet
bound round his i