This was done; and Sir Francis regarded the paper with swimming eyes.

“Now, your name,—­written near the bottom of the sheet,” Lord Roos cried.

“’Tis done under com—­compulsion; and I pro—­protest against it.”

“Sign, I say,” the young nobleman exclaimed, rapping the table peremptorily.

On this, Sir Francis wrote his name in the place indicated.

“Enough!” Lord Roos cried, snatching up the paper.  “This is all I want.  Now set him on the table, that his partner may have him in full view when he arrives.  ’Twill give him a foretaste of what he may himself expect.”

“What mean you, ruff—­ruffians?  ’Tis an indignity to which I shall not submit,” cried Sir Francis, who was now, however, too far gone to offer any resistance.

A leathern girdle was found, with which he was fastened to the chair, so as to prevent him slipping from it; and in this state he was hoisted upon the table, and set with his face to the door; looking the very picture of inebriety, with his head drooping on one side, his arms dangling uselessly down, and his thin legs stretched idly out.  After making some incoherent objections to this treatment, he became altogether silent, and seemed to fall asleep.  His elevation was received with shouts of laughter from the whole company.

The incident had not taken place many minutes, and a round had scarcely been drunk by the guests, when a loud and peremptory summons was heard at the door.  The noise roused even the poor drunkard in the chair, who, lifting up his head, stared about him with vacant eyes.

“Let the door be opened,” the same authoritative voice exclaimed, which had before ordered its closure.

The mandate was obeyed; and, amidst profound silence, which suddenly succeeded the clashing of glasses, and expressions of hilarity, Sir Giles Mompesson entered, with his body-guard of myrmidons behind him.

Habited in black, as was his custom, with a velvet mantle on his shoulder, and a long rapier by his side, he came forward with a measured step and assured demeanour.  Though he must necessarily have been surprised by the assemblage he found—­so much more numerous and splendid than he could have anticipated—­he betrayed no signs whatever of embarrassment.  Nor, though his quick eye instantly detected Sir Francis, and he guessed at once why the poor knight had been so scandalously treated, did he exhibit any signs of displeasure, or take the slightest notice of the circumstance; reserving this point for consideration, when his first business should be settled.  An additional frown might have darkened his countenance; but it was so stern and sombre, without it, that no perceptible change could be discerned; unless it might be in the lightning glances he cast around, as if seeking some one he might call to account presently for the insult.  But no one seemed willing to reply to the challenge.  Though bold enough before he came, and boastful of what they would do, they all looked awed by his presence, and averted their gaze from him.  There was, indeed, something so formidable in the man, that to shun a quarrel with him was more a matter of prudence than an act of cowardice; and on the present occasion, no one liked to be first to provoke him; trusting to his neighbour to commence the attack, or awaiting the general outbreak.