blessing; refuse to do it, and thou shalt go from thy snug cell into a
black dungeon full of newts and rats, where thou shalt rot till thy
nails are like birds' talons, and thy skin shrivelled up into mummy,
and covered with hair like Nebuchadnezzar!"

"Miserable varlet! Give thee my secret, give thee my fame, my life!
Never! I scorn and spit at thy malice!"

The friar's face grew convulsed with rage. "Wretch!" he roared forth,
"darest thou unslip thy hound-like malignity upon great Bungey?
Knowest thou not that he could bid the walls open and close upon thee;
that he could set yon serpents to coil round thy limbs, and yon lizard
to gnaw out thine entrails? Despise not my mercy, and descend to
plain sense. What good didst thou ever reap from thy engine? Why
shouldst thou lose liberty--nay, life--if I will, for a thing that has
cursed thee with man's horror and hate?"

"Art thou Christian and friar to ask me why? Were not Christians
themselves hunted by wild beasts, and burned at the stake, and boiled
in the caldron for their belief? Knave, whatever is holiest men ever
persecute. Read thy Bible!"

"Read the Bible!" exclaimed Bungey, in pious horror at such a
proposition. "Ah, blasphemer, now I have thee! Thou art a heretic
and Lollard. Hollo, there!"

The friar stamped his foot, the door opened; but to his astonishment
and dismay appeared, not the grim jailer, but the Duchess of Bedford
herself, preceded by Nicholas Alwyn. "I told your Grace truly--see,
lady!" cried the goldsmith. "Vile impostor, where hast thou hidden