“I have provided against that, methinks,” was the rather grim reply; and forthwith the three men rose and marched towards the chapel door, the prisoner being led after them by the servants.

The commissary then led the way through various passages and up a long stair, and Dalaber gazed with interest as he passed through the door of a large upper chamber, where a strange-looking apparatus stood in one corner.  It was something like the stocks set in the marketplaces of the towns, for the detention of rogues and vagrants; but the holes in this were very high up, yet scarce high enough for the hands of a man standing.

“Empty your pockets, Anthony Dalaber,” spoke the commissary sternly; and when Dalaber had obeyed, he quietly possessed himself of his purse, loose money, knives, and tablets, which, with the girdle he wore, were wrapped together and made into a packet.

“If you are found guiltless of the charges wherewith you stand accused, you shall have them again,” said Dr. Cottisford somewhat grimly; “meantime they will be safer with me.”

Dalaber’s heart sank somewhat, for he had a few silver pieces in his purse, and had thought perchance to purchase therewith some greater favour from his jailers, whosoever they should be; but being thus robbed, he was powerless in the matter, and could only trust that they would not deal with him over harshly, since he had no means of winning favour and ease.

“Set him in the stocks and leave him,” spoke the commissary.  “Then we shall know there can be none escape.”

Anthony made no resistance as he was forced to the ground and his legs firmly locked into the stocks, so that his feet were well nigh as high as his head.  He uttered no complaint, and he spoke not a word of supplication, although the commissary lingered for a few moments as though to give him chance to do this; but as he remained silent and irresponsive, the latter left the room with a muttered word that sounded like an imprecation, and Dalaber heard the chamber door locked behind him as the last servant took his departure.

Left thus alone in that constrained posture, the thoughts of Dalaber flew back to those words of fatherly counsel and warning spoken the previous year by his master and friend John Clarke; and half aloud did Dalaber repeat the concluding sentence of that address:  “Then will ye wish ye had never known this doctrine; then will ye curse Clarke, and wish ye had never known him, because he hath brought you to all these troubles.”

“No, no!” cried Dalaber eagerly, as though crying aloud to one who could hear his words; “that will I never do, God helping me.  Come what may, I will thank and praise Him that I have been honoured by the friendship of such a saint upon earth.  I thank Him that I have learned to love and to know the Scriptures as I never could have known them but for reading them in mine own tongue, and hearing him discourse upon them.  Come what may, none can take