to attract attention.

The first to hear them was the chambermaid, and she, very naturally
suspecting that thieves were in the room, ran out into the yard and
intimated as much, at the top of her voice, to all the neighbours.

Meanwhile the knocking continued, and was, if anything, more vigorous
than before. Startled by such an unusual din, the worthy Boniface
awoke from his slumbers, and, in no very enviable frame of mind, set
off, poker in hand, to summon aid. Help soon came, and, armed with
pokers, brooms, and pitchforks, the door was quickly broken open
and the gallant company rushed in, knocking Sir George over as they
entered.

In the pause that followed the first rush the mistake was discovered,
and the situation was explained. The landlord was profuse in his
apologies, the more so as he caught the look of anger in the baron's
eye, but peace being quickly made, he rewarded his followers and
sallied out to discover the whereabouts of his delinquent servant,
breathing out dire threatenings against him. He searched in vain, and
after a thorough examination, returned in ill mood to partake of the
first meal of the day, and to discover the extent of his losses ere he
proceeded to appear against the unfortunate Edmund Wynne.

As the baron and Sir Thomas rode together to Westminster a few hours
later, it was with spirits considerably higher than they could have
expected four-and-twenty hours earlier. Sir George had resumed his
haughty bearing, but he was, in truth, though he would never have
confessed it, more than a trifle nervous. At last the great Justice
Hall was reached, and, with a parting injunction not to answer to the
challenge, Sir Thomas separated from him, passing in by one door while
the baron entered by another.

Sir George's nervous temperament was severely tried upon this
occasion, for he had a considerable time to wait, and he found no
better plan of whiling it away than that of impatiently pacing up
and down in the little room allotted to him; and he imagined himself
suffering all sorts of horrible tortures.

At last his turn came. The door opened; his name was called; and
composing himself as well as he was able, he stepped into the crowded
hall with considerable dignity, accompanied by a pompous member of the
Court, and at once became the cynosure of all eyes.

He stood impassively, casting his eyes around in search of Sir Thomas
Stanley, and curious to recognise as many as he could among the