“You will understand still further,” proceeded Nightgall, with a smile of triumph, “that he is not to stir forth except for one hour at mid-day, and then that his walks are to be restricted to the Green.”
While this was passing, Og observed in a whisper to Xit, “If I were possessed of that bunch of keys at Nightgall’s girdle, I could soon find Cicely.”
“Indeed!” said Xit. “Then you shall soon have them.” And the next minute he disappeared under the table.
“You have a warrant for what you do, I suppose?” demanded Og, desirous of attracting the jailer’s attention.
“Behold it,” replied Nightgall, taking a parchment from his vest. He then deliberately seated himself, and producing an inkhorn and pen, wrote Peter Trusbut’s name upon it.
“Master Pantler,” he continued, delivering it to him, “I have addressed it to you. Once more I tell you, you will be responsible for the prisoner. And with this I take my leave.”
“Not so fast, villain,” said Cholmondeley, seizing his arm with a firm grasp, “where is Cicely?”
“You will never behold her more,” replied Nightgall.
“What have you done with the captive Alexia?” pursued the esquire, bitterly.
“She likewise is beyond your reach,” answered the jailer, moodily. And shaking off Cholmondeley’s grasp, he rushed out of the chamber with such haste as nearly to upset Xit, who appeared to have placed himself purposely in his path.
This occurrence threw a gloom over the mirth of the party. The conversation flagged, and even an additional supply of wine failed to raise the spirits of the guests. Just as they were separating, hasty steps were heard on the stairs, and Nightgall again presented himself. Rushing up to Cholmondeley, who was sitting apart wrapt in gloomy thought, he exclaimed in a voice of thunder, “My keys! my keys! you have stolen my keys.”
“What keys?” demanded the esquire, starting to his feet. “Those of Alexia’s dungeon?”
“Restore them instantly,” cried Nightgall, furiously, “or I will instantly carry you back to the Nun’s Bower.”
“Were they in my possession,” replied Cholmondeley, “nothing should force them from me till I had searched your most secret hiding-places.”
“‘Tis therefore you stole them,” cried Nightgall. “See where my girdle has been cut,” he added, appealing to Peter Trusbut. “If they are not instantly restored, I will convey you all before the lieutenant, and you know how he will treat the matter.”
Terrified by this threat, the pantler entreated the esquire, if he really had the keys, to restore them. But Cholmondeley positively denied the charge, and after a long and fruitless search, all the party except Xit, who had disappeared, having declared their ignorance of what had become of them, Nightgall at last departed, in a state of the utmost rage and mortification.
Soon after this, the party broke up, and Cholmondeley retired to his own room. Though the pantler expressed no fear of his escaping, he did not neglect the precaution of locking the door. Throwing himself on a couch, the esquire, after a time, fell into a sort of doze, during which he was haunted by the image of Cicely, who appeared pale and suffering, and as if imploring his aid. So vivid was the impression, that he started up, and endeavoured to shake it off. In vain. He could not divest himself of the idea that she was at that moment subjected to the persecutions of Nightgall. Having endured this anguish for some hours, and the night being far advanced, he was about to address himself once more to repose, when he heard the lock turned, and glancing in the direction of the door, perceived it cautiously opened by Xit. The mannikin placed his finger to his lips in token of silence, and held up a huge bunch of keys, which Cholmondeley instantly conjectured were those lost by Nightgall. Xit then briefly explained how he had possessed himself of them, and offered them to Cholmondeley.
“I love the fair Cicely,” he said, “hate Nightgall, and entertain a high respect for your worship. I would gladly make you happy with your mistress if I can. You have now at least the means of searching for her, and heaven grant a favourable issue to the adventure. Follow me, and tread upon the points of your feet, for the pantler and his spouse occupy the next room.”