“Hold!” cried Sir Giles Mompesson.  “To the first—­vague and general accusations brought against me and my co-patentee, by this branded traitor, who, having been publicly punished for falsehood and libel, cannot be received as a witness, I have deigned no answer, conceiving such accusations cannot be for a moment entertained by you, most gracious Prince.  But to this specific charge, I give a flat denial; and demand proof of it.  I appeal to the most noble Marquis of Buckingham, through whose interest Sir Francis Mitchell and myself obtained those patents for the licences of inspection of inns and hostelries, as well as for the manufacture of gold and silver lace, whether he has ever heard aught to our disparagement in our conduct of them?”

“Do not appeal to me, Sir,” replied Buckingham, coldly.

“Sir Giles has demanded proof of my charge, and I am prepared to produce it,” said Lanyere.  “As to the vagueness of my accusations, your Highness will judge of that when the full catalogue of the offences of these two extortioners, with the damnatory proofs of them, shall be laid before you.  This memorial, signed by nearly the whole of the sufferers from their exactions, perpetrated by means of the monopolies, will satisfy your Highness of the truth of my statement—­but I have also a witness to call.”

“A witness!—­here!” muttered Sir Giles, uneasily.  “This must be a deeply-concerted scheme.”

“Before you bring forward any one,” said Charles, addressing Lanyere, “Sir Giles must be set right on one point in which he is in error.  Your credibility is not to be disputed, and I accept your testimony against him.”

“Your Highness!” cried the extortioner.

“Peace, Sir! you shall be heard anon,” said Charles.  “Produce your witness,” he added to Lanyere.

At a sign from the promoter, Luke Hatton, who was standing near the doorway, stepped behind the tapestry, and almost immediately reappearing with Madame Bonaventure, led her towards the Prince, before whom she prostrated herself.

“Arise, Madame,” said Charles, graciously.  “Your features are not unfamiliar to me.  Methinks you are the hostess of the French ordinary at the tavern of the Three Cranes, in the Vintry.”

“Tour Highness is in the right—­I am Madame Bonaventure, at your Highness’s service,” replied the hostess, enchanted at this recognition on the part of the Prince.  “My lord of Buckingham, I am well persuaded, will condescend to speak to the merits and respectability of my establishment.”

“In sooth will I, good hostess,” replied the Marquis.  “I can give your Bordeaux my heartiest commendation.  ’Tis the best in London.”

“Nay, I can speak to it myself—­and to the good order of the house too; having visited the tavern incognito,” remarked the Prince, smiling.

“Is it possible!” exclaimed Madame Bonaventure, rapturously.  “Have I been so greatly honoured?  Mon Dieu!—­and not to be aware of it!”