and those of your partner in iniquity, Sir Giles Mompesson, brought to
destruction; the son of him whom you despoiled of a good name and large
estates, and cast into a loathsome prison, to languish and to die: I am
the son of that murdered man. I am he whom you have robbed of his
inheritance; whose proud escutcheon you have tarnished; whose family you
have reduced to beggary and utter ruin."

"But Sir Jocelyn, my worthy friend," the knight faltered, "have
patience, I pray of you. If you consider yourself aggrieved, I am
willing to make reparation--ample reparation. You know what were my
intentions towards you, before I had the slightest notion who you might
be. (If I had but been aware of it, he thought, I would have taken care
to keep at a respectful distance from him.) I will do more than I
promised. I will lend you any sums of money you may require; and on your
personal security. Your bare word shall suffice. No bonds--no written
obligations of any kind. Does that sound like usury? As I am a true
gentleman! I am most unfairly judged. I am not the extortioner men
describe me. You shall find me your friend," he added in a low earnest
tone. "I will re-establish your fortune; give you a new title, higher
and prouder than that which you have lost; and, if you will follow my
counsel, you shall supplant the haughty favourite himself. You shall
stand where Buckingham now stands. Hear reason, good Sir Jocelyn. Hear
reason, I entreat you."

"I will hear nothing further," Jocelyn rejoined. "Were you to talk till
Doomsday, you could not alter my feelings towards you a jot. My chief
errand in coming to London was to call you and Sir Giles Mompesson to
strict account."

"And we will answer any charges you may bring against us readily--most