“Truly, your conduct requires explanation,” Jocelyn Mounchensey cried, in a mocking tone.  “If I had not been here in London, I should have judged, from your appearance, and that of your attendants, that a band of desperate marauders had broken in upon us, and that we must draw our swords to defend our lives, and save the house from pillage.  But after what you have said, I conclude you to be the sheriff, come with your followers to execute some writ of attachment; and therefore, however annoying the presence of such a functionary may be,—­however ill-timed may be your visit, and unmannerly your deportment,—­we are bound not to molest you.”

Provocation like this was rarely addressed to Sir Giles; and the choler occasioned by it was increased by the laughter and cheers of the company.  Nevertheless he constrained his anger, replying in a stern, scornful tone—­

“I would not counsel you to molest me, young man.  The mistake you have committed in regard to myself may be pardoned in one of your evident inexperience; who, fresh from the boorish society of the country, finds himself, for the first time, amongst well-bred gentlemen.  Of all here present you are probably the sole person ignorant that I am Sir Giles Mompesson.  But it is scarcely likely that they should be aware, as I chance to be, that the clownish insolent who has dared to wag his tongue against me, is the son of a Star-Chamber delinquent.”

CHAPTER IX.

The Letters-Patent.

A slight reaction in Sir Giles’s favour was produced by his speech, but Jocelyn quite regained his position with the company when he exclaimed—­

“My father was misjudged.  His prosecutor was a villain, and his sentence iniquitous.”

“You have uttered your own condemnation, Jocelyn Mounchensey,” Sir Giles cried, with a savage laugh.  “Know, to your confusion, that the High Court of Star-Chamber is so tender of upholding the honour of its sentences, that it ever punishes such as speak against them with the greatest severity.  You have uttered your scandals openly.”

“Imprudent young man, you have, indeed, placed yourself in fearful jeopardy,” a gentleman near him observed to Jocelyn.  “Escape, if you can.  You are lost, if you remain here.”

But instead of following the friendly advice, Jocelyn would have assaulted Sir Giles, if he had not been forcibly withheld by the gentleman.

The knight was not slow to follow up the advantage he had gained.

“Stand forward, Clement Lanyere,” he exclaimed, authoritatively.

The promoter instantly advanced.

“Look at this man,” Sir Giles continued, addressing Jocelyn; “and you will perceive how those who malign the Star-Chamber are treated.  This disfigured countenance was once as free from seam or scar as your own; and yet, for an offence lighter than yours, it hath been stamped, as you see, with indelible infamy.  Answer, Clement Lanyere,—­and answer according to your conscience,—­Was the sentence just of the high and honourable court by which you were tried?”