“Be it so,” the knight said; “I wash my hands of the consequences.”  Then turning to his followers, he added—­“Officers, at all hazards, attach the person of Dameris Bonaventure, and convey her to the Compter.  At the same time, arrest the young man-beside her—­Jocelyn Mounchensey,—­who has uttered treasonable language against our sovereign lord the King.  I will tell you how to dispose of him anon.  Do my bidding at once.”

But ere the order could be obeyed, the authoritative voice which had previously been heard from the upper table exclaimed—­“Hold!”

Sir Giles paused; looked irresolute for a minute; and then checked his myrmidons with a wave of the hand.

“Who is it stays the law?” he said, with the glare of a tiger from whom a bone has been snatched.

“One you must needs obey, Sir Giles,” replied Lord Roos, coming towards him from the upper table.  “You have unconsciously played a part in a comedy—­and played it very well, too—­but it is time to bring the piece to an end.  We are fast verging on the confines of tragedy.”

“I do not understand you, my lord,” Sir Giles returned, gravely.  “I discern nothing comic in the matter; though much of serious import.”

“You do not perceive the comedy, because it has been part of our scheme to keep you in the dark, Sir Giles.”

“So there is a scheme, then, a-foot here, my lord?—­ha!”

“A little merry plot; nothing more, Sir Giles—­in the working of which your worthy co-patentee, Sir Francis Mitchell, has materially assisted.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Sir Giles, glancing at his partner, who still occupied his elevated position upon the table—­“I presume, then, I have to thank you, my lord, for the indignity offered to my friend?”

“As you please, Sir Giles,” Lord Roos returned carelessly.  “You call it an indignity; but in my opinion the best thing to be done with a man whose head so swims with wine that his legs refuse to support him, is to tie him in a chair.  He may else sacrifice his dignity by rolling under the table.  But let this pass for the nonce.  Before Sir Francis was wholly overcome, he was good enough to give me his signature.  You saw him do it, gentlemen?” he added, appealing to the company.

“Yes—­yes!—­we saw him write it!” was the general reply.

“And to what end was this done, my lord?” Sir Giles demanded, sternly.

“To enable me,” replied the imperturbable young nobleman, “to draw out a receipt in full of your joint claims against Madame Bonaventure.  I have done it, Sir Giles; and here it is.  And I have taken care to grant a renewal of her licence from the date of your notice; so that no penalties or fines can attach to her for neglect.  Take it, Madame Bonaventure” he continued, handing her the paper.  “It is your full acquittance.”

“And think you, my lord, that this shallow artifice—­to give it no harsher term—­will avail you any thing?” Sir Giles cried scornfully.  “I set it aside at once.”