“As I am a true gentleman, it will infinitely distress me to resort to extremities, fair mistress,” said the old usurer, “and I still trust you will listen to reason.  If I have put in practice a little harmless stratagem, what matters it?  All is fair in love.  And if you knew all, you would be aware that I have already paid so dearly for you that I cannot afford to lose you.  Cost what it will, you must be mine.”

“Never!” exclaimed Aveline, resolutely.

“You will soon alter your tone, when you find how little power of refusal is left you, fair mistress,” said Sir Giles.  “A litter is waiting for you without.  Will it please you to enter it?”

“Not unless by force—­and you dare to offer me violence,” she replied.

“I advise you not to put our forbearance to the test,” said Sir Giles.

“I should be grieved to impose any restraint upon you,” subjoined Sir Francis; “and I trust you will not compel me to act against my inclinations.  Let me lead you to the litter.”

As he advanced towards her, Aveline drew quickly back, and Dame Sherborne uttered a loud scream; but her cries brought no other help than could be afforded by old Anthony Rocke, who, planting himself before his young mistress, menaced Sir Francis to retire.

But this state of things was only of brief duration.  It speedily appeared that the two extortioners had abundant assistance at hand to carry out their infamous design.  A whistle was sounded by Sir Giles; and at the call the cottage door was burst open by some half dozen of the myrmidons, headed by Captain Bludder.

Any resistance that the old serving-man could offer was speedily overcome.  Knocked down by a pike, he was gagged and pinioned, and carried out of the house.  The cries of Aveline and the elderly dame were stifled by scarves tied over their heads; and both being in a fainting condition from fright, they were borne to the litter which was standing at the door, and being shut up within it, were conveyed as quickly as might be to Sir Giles Mompesson’s mansion, near the Fleet.  Thither, also, was old Anthony Rocke taken, closely guarded on the way by two of the myrmidons.

Chapter XXV.

The “Stone Coffin.”

A dreadful dungeon! the last and profoundest of the range of subterranean cells already described as built below the level of the river Fleet:  a relict, in fact, of the ancient prison which had escaped the fury of Wat Tyler and his followers, when the rest of the structure was destroyed by them.  Not inaptly was the dungeon styled the “Stone Coffin.”  Those immured within it seldom lived long.

A chill like that of death smote Sir Jocelyn, as he halted before the door of this horrible place.  Preceded by Grimbald the jailer, with a lamp in one hand and a bunch of large keys in the other, and closely followed by the deputy-warden and Sir Giles Mompesson, our young knight had traversed an underground corridor with cells on one side of it, and then, descending a flight of stone steps, had reached a still lower pit, in which the dismal receptacle was situated.  Here he remained up to the ankles in mud and water, while Grimbald unlocked the ponderous door, and with a grin revealed the interior of the cavernous recess.