Jock, fell in at back and front.

Malise, the master armourer, stood silent, taking the matter with his
usual phlegm, but the Abbot was voluble.

"William," he said, holding out his hands with an appealing gesture,
"I have laboured with you, striven with, prayed for you. To-night I
came forth through the storm, though an old man, to deliver you from
the manifest snares of the devil--"

But the Earl interrupted his recital without compunction.

"Set Malise MacKim in the inner dungeon," he cried. "Thrust his feet
into the great stocks, and let my lord Abbot be warded safely in the
castle chapel. He is little likely to be disturbed there at his
devotions."

"Aye, my lord, it shall be done!" said Landless Jock, shaking his
head, however, with gloomy foreboding, as the haughty young Earl in
his wet and torn disarray flashed past him without further notice of
the two men whom the might of his bare word had committed to prison.
The Earl sprang up the narrow turret stairs, passing as he did so
through the vaulted hall of the men-at-arms, where more than a hundred
stout archers and spearmen sat carousing and singing, even at that
advanced hour of the night, while as many more lay about the corridors
or on the wooden shelves which they used for sleeping upon, and which
folded back against the wall during the day. At the first glimpse of
their young master, every man left awake among them struggled to his
feet, and stood stiffly propped, drunk or sober according to his
condition, with his eyes turned towards the door which gave upon the