"By St. Iago," he said in a low voice, "I have been looking at the twin brothers for the last five minutes, and at this moment I cannot tell you which is William and which is Ralph; I do not think that the world contains another so perfect example of the 'Dioscuroi'; no man could tell them apart." Sir Philip shivered inwardly at these words, and he thought within himself— "Does our friendly Ambassador begin to suspect the legal trick by which our case was won? If so, the sooner we get Ralph across the water the better." At that moment his eye fell upon Don Diego, who sat next to Susan, with whom he was holding eager discourse. "No, no," thought he, "no harm can come to our twins from that quarter; he can never forget the noble daring that saved his son's life." As a rule no sound from the outside world ever penetrated the stillness of the dining-hall of Gray's Inn, yet to the watchful ears of some who sat at that festive table it seemed as if armed men were in movement in the great courtyard. No word of command, no treading of iron-girt men, no clash of arms, but only a dull sense of approaching danger! Suddenly Sir John's major-domo entered the hall and passed rapidly to his master's side as he sat at the head of the table. Sir John noted not that the man's face was ghastly pale, nor that his terror-stricken tongue could scarce find utterance for his words. He stooped towards Sir John, and in low tones said— "Sir John, the Deputy Sheriff is outside the hall—on the staircase." Sir John started. "Is it not the Sheriff?" he said; "we expected him as a guest to-day." A dead silence had fallen in the hall, the guests were listening eagerly. "No, Sir John, it is Mr. Deputy Sheriff," replied the major-domo. "Bid him enter," said his master. "He is not alone, Sir John; he has halberdiers with him." Sir John rose, as he said again— "Bid him enter!" The trembling servant obeyed, and, proceeding to the end of the Hall, threw open the great folding doors. All the guests had now risen to their feet; all knew that some catastrophe was at hand. The men looked stern, and, for the most part, undaunted; but from the many ladies present came the sound of choking sobs and subdued cries. The Deputy Sheriff had entered, and with him came a posse of halberdiers in full armour. As the armed men drew up in line within the hall their leader stepped forward and bowed low to Sir John—waiting, apparently, to be questioned. "Mr. Deputy Sheriff," said Sir John in firm tones, "you would be welcome here this day, but for this array at your back; what means it?" "I crave your pardon, Sir John Jefferay, yet the servants of the Queen must do their duty and obey the royal command, even if it be bitter and irksome." "It is true, sir", replied Sir John with dignity, "and you need no pardon from me; declare to us your business here."