The magistrate arrived with a number of sheriff’s men. And he was armed with an authority to enter and search every likely place in the city and county of Oxford which might harbor the notorious traitor, Gervase Heriot, who had not only broken out of prison, but who had also murdered his uncle the previous night. John Davenant had been told beforehand of Justice Pretyman’s coming. Therefore he met him at the inn door. And the demand that a house of such repute should be searched for so dark a purpose appeared to fill the heart of the worthy vintner with grief and consternation. “You may search my tavern, sir,” he said, “but I would have you to know that, upon my honor as a licensed victualler, this is the most reputable tavern betwixt here and The Pump in Aldgate.” “That I don’t doubt, sir,” said Justice Pretyman, with official asperity. He was a pompous, overbearing little man, very conscious of the dignity to which it had pleased Providence to call him. “As _custos rotulorum_ of this country, as one armed with the Queen’s authority----” “Aye, God protect her,” suddenly interposed a man who stood by in a voice of fervent piety. “But I would beg you, sir, to abate all instancy of demeanor and likewise all of the same on the part of your bumpkins, whom I doubt not are excellent fellows in the right place and season, but who at this moment will best serve the Queen by bearing themselves with all the modesty they can command.” The man who had ventured these somewhat haughty remarks was dressed in a cloak of plum-colored velvet and a feathered hat, of such style and dimension as is seldom seen out of a court. He had come up with an air of nonchalant ease, and had interposed his remarks in a manner which seemed to claim for them the highest possible consideration. At the opprobrious term “Bumpkin,” it had been on the tip of Justice Pretyman’s tongue to retort, “Bumpkin yourself, sir.” He was a hotheaded little man, also he was vain, also he was very self-important. But he was thwarted in this natural desire by the very patent fact that whatever else this haughty personage was, he was evidently not a bumpkin. Now Justice Pretyman was a small gentleman, who would like to have been thought a great gentleman. And those who are thus afflicted, however much they may browbeat their inferiors, however much they may ruffle it among their equals, are of all men particularly wary when it comes to a question of their superiors.