“Where is the person who says he intercepted them?” asked Bloundel.

“In the yard,” answered Blaize.

“Bid him come hither,” rejoined his master.  “Stay, I will go to him myself.”

With this, the whole party, including old Josyna and Stephen—­the two boys and little Christiana not having been disturbed—­proceeded to the yard, where they found Pillichody in his watchman’s dress, who related his story more circumstantially than before.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” cried Mrs. Bloundel; “and I will stake my life it is one of the Earl of Rochester’s tricks.”

“Were I assured that such was the case,” said the grocer, in a stern whisper to his wife, “I would stir no further in the matter.  My threat to Amabel was not an idle one.”

“I may be mistaken,” returned Mrs. Bloundel, almost at her wit’s end with anxiety.  “Don’t mind what I say.  Judge for yourself.  Oh dear! what will become of her?” she mentally ejaculated.

“Lanterns and links!” cried Pillichody.  “Do you mean to impeach my veracity, good mistress?  I am an old soldier, and as tenacious of my honour as your husband is of his credit.”

“This blustering will not serve your turn, fellow,” observed the grocer, seizing him by the collar.  “I begin to suspect my wife is in the right, and will at all events detain you.”

“Detain me! on what ground?” asked Pillichody.

“As an accomplice in my daughter’s abduction,” replied Bloundel.  “Here, Blaize—­Stephen, hold him while I call the watch.  This is a most mysterious affair, but I will soon get at the bottom of it.”

By the grocer’s directions, Pillichody, who very quietly entered the house, and surrendered his halberd to Blaize, was taken to the kitchen.  Bloundel then set forth, leaving Stephen on guard at the yard door, while his wife remained in the shop, awaiting his return.

On reaching the kitchen with the prisoner, Blaize besought his mother, who, as well as Patience, had accompanied him thither, to fetch a bottle of sack.  While she went for the wine, and the porter was stalking to and fro before the door with the halberd on his shoulder, Patience whispered to Pillichody, “I know who you are.  You came here last night with the Earl of Rochester in the disguise of a quack doctor.”

“Hush!” cried Pillichody, placing his finger on his lips.

“I am not going to betray you,” returned Patience, in the same tone.  “But you are sure to be found out, and had better beat a retreat before Mr. Bloundel returns.”

“I won’t lose a moment,” replied Pillichody, starting to his feet.

“What’s the matter?” cried Blaize, suddenly halting.

“I only got up to see whether the wine was coming,” replied Pillichody.

“Yes, here it is,” replied Blaize, as his mother reappeared; “and now you shall have a glass of such sack as you never yet tasted.”

And pouring out a bumper, he offered it to Pillichody.  The latter took the glass; but his hand shook so violently that he could not raise it to his lips.