“Ha! as I suspected,” cried De Gondomar.  “You, Mounchensey, are the author and instigator of this outrage, and are come to see that your tools do their work properly.”

“It is false,” cried Dick Taverner.  “Your Excellency judges of others by yourself.  Sir Jocelyn would have checked us if he could.”

“I cannot be expected to believe such an assertion as this,” cried De Gondomar incredulously.

“Let my actions speak for me,” cried Mounchensey.  “Friends,” he called out, “it is undoubtedly true that I have good ground of complaint against the Conde de Gondomar—­that he has deeply injured me—­and that I will compel him to make me reparation in due season—­but I cannot permit outrage to be offered him; and if aught further be attempted, my arm will be raised in his defence.”

“How! can this be possible!” exclaimed De Gondomar in surprise.

“Why, we are fighting Sir Jocelyn’s battles, and he turns round upon us!” cried a burly ’prentice, while loud murmurs arose from the others, and the cudgels were again brandished menacingly.

“Leave him to us, Sir Jocelyn,” said Dick Taverner.

“Ay, he had better not interfere, of he will come in for his share of the blows,” roared several voices.

“I care not what befals me,” shouted Mounchensey.  “You shall not injure a hair of his Excellency’s head while I stand by.”

And as he spoke he warded off several blows aimed at the ambassador.

“I am with you, Sir Jocelyn,” said Clement Lanyere, clearing a space around them with his long rapier, but avoiding, so far as possible, doing injury to the ’prentices.

At this critical juncture, and when it seemed likely that, owing to his chivalrous interference, Sir Jocelyn would share the ambassador’s fate, he being fairly resolved, as he showed, to defend him with his life, a cry was raised that a body of the royal guards were approaching; and as the trampling of horse, accompanied by the clatter of swords, left no doubt of the fact, and as, moreover, the bold ’prentices felt no disposition to encounter regular soldiery, they instantly abandoned their prey and took to their beels, the chief part of them leaping the hedge which then grew along the north side of Holborn, and scouring off through the fields in every direction.  Some half dozen were made prisoners by the guard; and amongst these, we regret to state, was the leader of the riotous assembly, Dick Taverner.

“Thou art likely to make acquaintance with the pillory and the cart’s tail, if not with the hangman, friend,” said the soldier who secured him, with a laugh.

“So I begin to fear,” replied Dick.  “Alack! and well-a-day! what will become of Gillian!”

“An that be thy mistress’s name, friend, you should have thought of her before you engaged in this disturbance.  You are likely now to part company with her for ever.”

While Dick lamented the predicament in which he had placed himself, the Conde de Gondomar, freed from all apprehension, turned towards his deliverer, and proffering him his hand, said—­“You have nobly revenged yourself, Sir Jocelyn.  I trust we may be friends once more.  I will make you ample reparation for the wrong I have done you.”