“Your pardon, Sir Giles; you will do no such thing.”

“And who will hinder me?—­You, my lord?”

“Even I, Sir Giles.  Proceed at your peril.”

The young nobleman’s assurance staggered his opponent.

“He must have some one to uphold him, or he would not be thus confident,” he thought.  “Whose was the voice I heard?  It sounded like—­No matter!  ’Tis needful to be cautious.”

“You do not, then, hold yourself bound by the acts of your partner, Sir Giles?” Lord Roos said.

“I deny this to be his act,” the knight replied.

“Better question him at once on the subject,” Lord Roos said.  “Set him free, Cyprien.”

The Gascon did as he was bidden, and with the aid of his fellow drawers, helped Sir Francis from the table.  To the surprise of the company, the knight then managed to stagger forward unassisted, and would have embraced Sir Giles, if the latter had not thrust him off in disgust, with some violence.

“What folly is this, Sir Francis?” Sir Giles cried angrily.  “You have forgotten yourself strangely, you have taken leave of your senses, methinks!”

“Not a whit of it, Sir Giles—­not a whit.  I never was more my own master than I am at present, as I will prove to you.”

“Prove it, then, by explaining how you came to sign that paper.  You could not mean to run counter to me?”

“But I did,” Sir Francis rejoined, highly offended.  “I meant to run counter to you in signing it, and I mean it now.”

“’Sdeath! you besotted fool, you are playing into their hands!”

“Besotted fool in your teeth, Sir Giles.  I am as sober as yourself.  My hand has been put to that paper, and what it contains I stand by.”

“You design, then, to acquit Madame Bonaventure?  Consider what you say?”

“No need for consideration; I have always designed it.”

“Ten thousand thanks, Sir Francis!” the hostess cried.  “I knew I had an excellent friend in you.”

The enamoured knight seized the hand she extended towards him, but in the attempt to kiss it fell to the ground, amid the laughter of the company.

“Are you satisfied now, Sir Giles?” asked Lord Roos.

“I am satisfied that Sir Francis has been duped,” he replied, “and that when his brain is free from the fumes of wine, he will bitterly regret his folly.  But even his discharge will be insufficient.  Though it may bind me, it will not bind the Crown, which will yet enforce its claims.”

“That, Sir Giles, I leave competent authority to decide,” Lord Roos replied, retiring.

And as he withdrew, the curtains before the upper table were entirely withdrawn, disclosing the whole of the brilliant assemblage, and at the head of them one person far more brilliant and distinguished than the rest.

“Buckingham!” Sir Giles exclaimed.  “I thought I knew the voice.”