Presently I found myself in a very lofty and spacious chamber, the best in the Inn. Adjoining it was a smaller bedroom, whose one window looked upon the deep and silent close of the Cathedral, now deserted. The chamber was admirable for my purpose. In the bedroom I stationed Macleod. I had directed him to procure a quantity of light yet strong rope, and by some means, like the faithful fellow that he was, he had managed to obey my rather difficult order: he had the most of it wound about his person. There were a number of candles burning in the great apartment. I extinguished them all but one, and, drawing back so as partly to be concealed by the window, I loosened my sword in its sheath and waited for the coming of Lord Jeffreys with what patience I could muster--but little, I will admit. _Chapter_ XV _Shows how the Lord Chief Justice of England kept a Love Tryst and what befell him at the Boar's Head Inn_ It seemed hours, although really but a few minutes, before there came a discreet tap upon the door. Before I had time to say a word, it opened cautiously and the burly figure of a man muffled in a long cloak entered the room. The door was closed behind him. He took off his hat, unbuttoned his coat, and dropped it carelessly in a chair. "'Tis so dark in here, Doll," he began, in a rough, hoarse voice, "that I couldn't see a blush on your face, even if you could conjure up one." He peered about him in the half-light uncertainly. "Why so sparing of the candles?" he asked with a coarse laugh. "Come, no tricks, you baggage; where are ye?" He looked about him a moment more, fortunately not seeing me behind the hangings, and then strode boldly across the room and laid his hand on the bed-chamber door. "Art couched already, wench?" he chuckled out. As noiselessly as a cat, and with more swiftness than he had exhibited, I had followed him and, as his hand touched the door handle, I pricked him on the shoulder with the point of my sword. He wheeled around with a marvellous swiftness for a man of his bulk and confronted me. He did not yet recognise me in the dim light, but he saw enough to know that it was the tall form of a man in the room he expected to be welcomed to by a woman. He opened his mouth, but, before he could make a sound, I said: "Unless you want me to run you through with this blade, you will be absolutely silent, sir." I never saw a more ridiculous spectacle than he presented--his mouth open, his fat face violently flushed. Like most bullies--not all--this bloodthirsty jurist--God save the mark--was an arrant coward. He shrank back against the wall and only stopped retreating when further escape was impossible. "Do you know what 'tis you are doing?" he growled. "You are raising sword against the Lord Chief Justice of England; your life will be forfeited, 'tis treason. I will have you hung, drawn, quartered. Drop your blade instantly, knave," he went on, gaining courage as he heard his own voice.