Hugh unwillingly returned.

“Do you know that?” Sir George exclaimed, holding up the packet he had discovered.

Hugh had come purposely to seek it, but deeming it unwise to admit the fact, he boldly answered in the negative.  “That will do,” said the younger knight quietly; “you can depart.”

Again he started to go, but again Sir George called him back.

“Read it,” he said peremptorily, and he thrust the parchment into the ostler’s hands.

“I cannot read,” he replied; but suddenly bethinking himself that he was implicated by the written evidence, he quickly changed his mind, and eagerly snatching the document from the baron, he hastened out of the room and turned the lock sharply upon the wonder-stricken knights.

No time was to be lost; Hugh knew their knocking would soon be heard, and that before long they would be released, when there would be hue and cry after him; so, rapidly catching up a few of his own things—­and he had few of his own handy enough to take—­and adding a few convenient valuables belonging to his master to pay for his services, he quickly passed out of the house and sped on his way to join the confederates of Edmund Wynne.

Edmund, too, had passed a sleepless night.  At first he had attempted to burst his chains asunder, but soon realising the utter uselessness of such conduct, and being also covered with bruises, he desisted and passed the next hour in calling out for relief.  No relief came; only the mice and the insects heard his cries, and the former affrighted, sought seclusion in their holes, leaving the latter to survey in silent surprise the new comer who had intruded upon their privacy.

Wearied out, he gave over shouting at last, and lay upon the floor of his damp cell, tossing uneasily about from side to side.  The sun set; the dark night came and went; the morning sun arose, and yet he knew it not.  It was too dark for him to see anything, for even no ray of light found its way inside to gladden the heart of the prisoner.  He was altogether shut off from the world; he was, for the time being, to all intents and purposes, buried alive.

At length, after a night of abject misery, which seemed as if it never would end, he heard the key turned in the lock, and in another moment the gaoler entered.  He fastened Edmund’s hands securely behind his back, and unlocking the fetters he bade him follow him to the court.

The landlord of the Cock Tavern was already there, much enraged at the loss of his property and the conduct of his servant, which he laid to the charge of the prisoner.  In a very short space of time Edmund Wynne was convicted as a vagabond, and he listened akin to relief as the Judge sentenced him to be kept in the stocks for the rest of the day and threatened him with a whipping in the pillory if he were brought before him on a second occasion.  Much to the annoyance of the innkeeper, the attempt to connect the prisoner with the loss of his property and the ostler’s flight entirely broke down; and disgusted with everybody and everything, the good man returned to the tavern to smile with counterfeited pleasure at his customers, and to vent his rage upon the servants who were left him.