The dean, apparently with surprise, and a well-feigned indignation at the fraud which the hermit intended to have put upon him, exclaimed—­

“I had a grievous suspicion long ago that this hoary hypocrite would play me false; and indeed his great unwillingness to show the deed led me to think that he meditated some deadly wrong.”

“But wherefore,” inquired the chieftain, “should there be messengers to Halton with news and credentials so explicit that the estate was left without let or encumbrance to the Lady Fitz-Eustace?  A web of mystery is here which we will speedily unravel.  Who gave thee this deed? and wherefore shouldest thou conceal it?” said he, addressing the hermit.

“Roger de Fitz-Eustace,” replied the prisoner, “thine honour is abused.  That lying instrument was never in my charge.”

“Why hast thou refused to render up the deed?”

“Lest it should fall into the hands of robbers, and thou shouldest be cheated of thine inheritance.  This traitor hath long had an eye to the possession.”

“’Tis his,” returned the constable, sternly, “by this good title.”

“’Tis a fraud—­a base attempt put forth by this cut-purse to wrest it from thee.  Search him, and if thou findest not another, and of a different tenor, hidden about his goodly person, let me die a traitor’s death.”

“I see not that our power hath need of such a pleasant exercise.  Thou art accused by him of treachery; and verily ’tis a vain attempt to rid thee of the charge to throw back the accusation upon him thou hast wronged.”

“My Lord de Fitz-Eustace,” said the dean,—­but Roger looked displeased at this style and address, reminding him so soon of the departure of his lately-assumed title De Lacy,—­“your ear and mine have been too long abused by this plotting wizard.  He is now subject to my authority.  Hereby do I assume my rights, and arraign the culprit before my tribunal.”

The ambitious churchman approached the judgment-seat, whereon he was just ascending; but the hermit, with a desperate effort, burst from his bonds, and ere the guards could arrest him, he had grasped his adversary by the throat.

“Traitor, I warned thee beforetime.  Now will I unrobe thy villany to its very nakedness.”

The hermit, thrusting one hand beneath the garment of his victim, drew forth the real deed, which had been dexterously exchanged by the wily priest for his own fraudulent imposture.  He then loosened his grasp, and placed the real instrument in the hands of the baron.

“’Tis a forgery—–­ a base disposal of my rights,” roared out the infuriate and detected hypocrite.

But Roger de Lacy immediately saw that the deed was to a similar purport with the copy which had been sent by some unknown hand, immediately on the death of the testator, to Halton Castle.

With a look of devouring and terrible indignation he cried out—­

“Though thou wert the holy pontiff himself, and all the terrors of the Church were at thy command, thou shouldst not escape my vengeance, thou daring priest!  To the Furca!—­his offence is repugnant to my nostrils—­’tis rank with treason!”