Sir Osmund heard their approach.  He cautiously undrew the bolts, and, pointing to his foe with a signal they but too well understood, the latter was immediately seized, and with such rapidity, that almost before Sir William was aware of their design, he found himself a prisoner and incapable of resistance.

“Traitor, thou wilt rue this foul despite!  I here proclaim thee a craven knight and a dastard!” exclaimed Sir William.

“False pilgrim,” growled his adversary, “didst think to foist thy fooleries upon me!  The dungeon walls will give thee a patient hearing.  Boast to them of thy descent, and when they acknowledge thee, so will I. Guards, to your duty.”

Lady Mabel, with a loud and appalling shriek, fell senseless on the pavement.

In vain did Sir William endeavour to free himself from the rude grasp of his conductors.  He was hurried along, nor did there appear the remotest possibility of escape.  Just as they turned into a sort of corridor, leading to the passages more immediately connected with the place of their destination, they encountered Humphry Lathom.  The same half-stupid, half-knavish expression of face was now lighted up by a grin of apparently inexplicable amazement.

“Eh, nuncle,” said he, stroking his beard, “but you’re in mighty grace.  The Welshman always mounts his he-goats for guard on them he delighteth to honour.”  With one of his more than ordinarily elvish and malicious shouts he scampered past the enraged sentinels, and was heard rapidly ascending the steps of the great tower, beneath the massive foundations of which lay the dark and cheerless abode so unexpectedly destined for the reception of its owner.

Whilst these occurrences were passing within the walls Grim’s curiosity was in prodigious exercise without.  His anxiety increased in a compound ratio with the time elapsed, and inversely as the hope of intelligence was decreasing.  Every spare moment his eye was directed towards the hall; but no tidings came, no scout, no messenger from the scene of action, from whom the slightest inkling of the result could be gathered.  It seemed as though all intercourse had ceased, all transit and communication were cut off.  It was mighty strange! some rare doings were afloat, no doubt, and not a soul would remember honest Grim in his thrall.  He tied and untied his apron, beat the iron when it was cool, and let it cool when it was hot.  “It will be noon presently.”  He looked at the sun; it seemed to have crept backward for the last half-hour:  at any rate, he was morally certain that useful appendage to this great and troublesome world had stood still, if not retrograded.  The mendicants were all gone—­no tidings to be gained from them—­matters were more than usually contrary and provoking—­and if it had not been for some recent disgrace which his prying disposition had occasioned at the hall, he would long ago have satisfied himself by a personal inquiry into the present posture of affairs.