“I yield myself your prisoner, Sir,” replied Sir Jocelyn.  “Whither am I to be taken?”

“You will be taken before the Lords of the Council in the first instance, and afterwards, in all probability, be consigned to the custody of the wardens of his Majesty’s gaol of the Fleet,” replied the serjeant-at-arms.

“I would fain know the nature of my offence?” said Sir Jocelyn.

“You will learn that when the interrogatories are put to you,” replied the official.  “But I am told you have disparaged the dignity of the High Court, and that is an offence ever severely punished.  Your accuser is Sir Giles Mompesson.”

Having said thus much, the serjeant-at-arms turned to the promoter, and inquired, “Are you not Clement Lanyere?”

“Why do you ask?” rejoined the other.

“Because if you are he, I must request you to accompany me to Sir Giles Mompesson.”

“Lanyere is my name,” replied the other; “and if I decline to attend you, as you request, it is from no disrespect to you, but from distaste to the society into which you propose to bring me.  Your warrant does not extend to me?”

“It does not, Sir,” replied the serjeant-at-arms.  “Nevertheless—­”

“Arrest him!” cried a voice at the back of the house,—­and a window being thrown open, the face of Sir Giles Mompesson appeared at it—­“Arrest him!” repeated the extortioner.

The serjeant-at-arms made a movement, as if of compliance; but Lanyere bent towards him, and whispered a few words in his ear, on hearing which the official respectfully retired.

“Why are not my injunctions obeyed, Sir?” demanded Sir Giles, furiously, from the window.

“Because he has rendered me good reason why he may not be molested by us—­or by any one else,” replied the officer, significantly.

Lanyere looked with a smile of triumph at the extortioner, and then turning to Sir Jocelyn, who seemed half disposed to make an attack upon his enemy, said in an under-tone, “Harm him not.  Leave him to me.”

After which he quitted the cottage.

Sir Giles then signed to the serjeant-at-arms to remove his prisoner, and disappeared; and the attendants, in sable cloaks, closing round Sir Jocelyn, the party went forth.

CHAPTER XXII.

The Old Fleet Prison.

Mention is made of a prison-house standing near the River Fleet as early as the reign of Richard I.; and this was one of the oldest jails in London, as its first wardens, whose names are on record, Nathaniel de Leveland, and Robert his son, paid, in 1198, a fine of sixty marks for its custody; affirming “that it had been their inheritance ever since the Conquest, and praying that they might not be hindered therein by the counter-fine of Osbert de Longchamp,” to whom it had been granted by the lion-hearted monarch.