sinister countenance was not unknown to the apprentice.

"Saints defend us!" he ejaculated. "Is it possible that can be Sir Giles
Mompesson? What doth he here amidst this noble company? The villainous
extortioner cannot surely be permitted to enter the lists."

"Hold your peace, friend, if you are wise," muttered a deep voice behind
him.

"No, I will not be silent," rejoined the apprentice, without looking
round at his cautioner, but keeping his eye fixed upon Sir Giles. "I
will tell the felon knight my mind. I am not afraid of him. Harkye, my
masters," he called, in a loud voice, to those around him. "Do you know
who that black raven before you is? If not, I will tell you. He would
peck out your eyes if he could, and devour you and your substance, as he
has done that of many others. That bird of ill omen is Sir Giles
Mompesson."

"Impossible!" cried a bystander, indignantly. "Yet, now I look again,
'tis certainly he."

"As certain as that we are standing here," said the apprentice; "and if
you want further proof, behold, he is closing his visor. He thinks to
hide himself from our notice; but the trick shall not avail him. A groan
for the knavish extortioner, my masters--a deep groan for Sir Giles
Mompesson!"

Thus enjoined, a great hooting was made by the bystanders, and Sir
Giles's name was coupled with epithets that could not be very agreeable
to his ear.