The baron rose, and his grim eyebrows were fiercely knit and contracted.  He looked inquiringly towards the dean, who, for a moment, was confounded by this unexpected event.  Yet his presence of mind and fertility of expedient did not forsake him.

“Let him be instantly bound, my lord,” whispered De Whalley, “and holden by main force, or he will escape like a limed bird from the twigs.  Let him be led forthwith to the dungeon, where I myself will question him.  It is not fitting that this plotter should practise devilish devices upon our assembly.”

At a signal from their chief the soldiers surrounded him; but the hermit, whose features were still hidden by the cowl, took hold of the foremost, and with an incredible strength, dashed him to the ground.  The others drew back intimidated.

“Treason, my lord, treason!” cried the dean; “you behold him even in your presence exercising forbidden arts.  Away with him to the dungeon!  Guards, do your office.”

“Miscreant, beware!” said the hermit.  De Whalley, though bold and generally undaunted, started back at the sound.

“What, this lawless intromission to our face, and in our council too?” cried the baron.  “Seize that hooded kite, knaves, or I will hang every one o’ ye on the Furca ere the sun be two hours older!”

Roger de Lacy, in a threatening attitude, approached the guards, who now environed the hermit, using more caution than before.  Suddenly they rushed upon him, and he was pinioned ere he could make the least resistance.

At this moment, so anxiously hoped for and expected by the dean, the latter pushed towards him.  Thrusting his hand into the hermit’s bosom, the long-coveted parchment was in his grasp, and in a twinkling it was conveyed to his own.

“How now!” cried the baron, “wherefore in such haste?  I trow the deed is ours!”

With a great show of obedience and respect he drew the parchment again from beneath his robe, and holding it cautiously beside him, exclaimed—­

“My lord, ere this be read is it not prudent that we convey the traitor to the dungeon, lest by his subtilty the writing be wrested from our grasp?”

The hermit, yet held in close custody of the guards, cried with a loud voice—­

“Who is the traitor let the walls of my cell bear witness, when they heard him offer a heavy bribe that this, the only evidence to the right of the Fitz-Eustace, might be destroyed!”

“Fatherest thou the accursed progeny of thine avarice upon me?” cried the dean, apparently indignant at so unjust an accusation.

“Give me the roll,” said the constable, “and we will confront him by what he would have withheld.  After we have made our own right secure, we adjudge him to his deserts.”

The dean was obliged, however unwillingly, to obey; handing forward the parchment, which Roger de Lacy unfolded in the presence of the hermit.  But it would be impossible to describe the consternation of the chieftain when he read therein a formal grant, bequeathing the whole of these vast possessions to Robert de Whalley and his heirs for ever.