With a growl like that of a mastiff, to the black broad muzzle of which animal his own features bore a remarkable resemblance, the porter greeted the new comers, and ushered them into an apartment built of stone, octagonal in shape, with a vaulted roof, narrow windows like loopholes, and a great stone fireplace.  Its walls, which resembled those of an ancient guardroom, were appropriately enough garnished with fetters; mixed up with which, as if to inspire greater terror among the beholders, were an executioner’s heavy whip, with many knotted thongs, several knives, with strange blades, the purpose of which was obvious enough, and branding-irons.

As Sir Jocelyn was brought into the lodge by his guards, an elderly man, with a bald head and gray beard and moustaches, and possessing, in spite of his years, a most repulsive physiognomy, advanced to meet him.  His doublet and hose were of murrey-colour; and his inflamed visage, blood-shot eyes, fiery nose, and blotchy forehead, were in keeping with the hue of his apparel.  This was Joachim Tunstall, Deputy Warden of the Fleet.

Behind him were some half-dozen jailers, attired in garments of dark-brown frieze, and each having a large bunch of keys at his girdle.  All of them were stout, hard-featured men, and bore upon their countenances the stamp of their vocation.

The warrant for Sir Jocelyn’s committal to the Fleet was delivered by the serjeant-at-arms to the deputy-warden; and the latter having duly perused it, was conferring with one of the jailers as to where the prisoner should be conducted, when a side-door was suddenly opened, and Sir Giles Mompesson issuing from it, tapped the deputy-warden on the shoulder.

“You need not consider where the prisoner is to be lodged, Master Tunstall,” he said, looking fixedly at Mounchensey all the while.  “The dungeon he is to occupy is the darkest, the deepest and the dampest in the Fleet.  It is that in which his father died.  You know it well, Grimbald,” he added, to one of the burliest of the jailers.  “Take him thither at once, and I will go with you to see him safely bestowed.

“Pass on, Sir,” he continued, with a smile of fiendish satisfaction, as Mounchensey was led forth by the jailer.

Chapter XXIV.

The Abduction.

Night had come on, and Aveline was anxiously expecting the arrival of her lover, when a loud knocking was heard at the door of the cottage; and before the summons could be answered by Anthony Rocke, two persons entered, and pushing past the old serving-man, who demanded their business, and vainly endeavoured to oppose their progress, forced their way into the presence of his mistress.  Dame Sherborne was in an inner room, but, alarmed by the noise, she flew to the aid of her charge, and reached her at the same moment with the intruders.  Her lamp threw its light full upon their countenances; and when she found who they were, she screamed and nearly let it fall, appearing to stand much more in need of support than Aveline herself.