"I am Michael Fane, but cannot claim the rank," I answered coldly, for his bearing was both bold and insolent. "That matters not," quoth he. "I hold a warrant here for your arrest." "Ah, so! And, prithee, on what grounds?" I asked. "Why, on the best of grounds," he answered, opening the paper with a flourish. "For having aided and abetted rebels; for having spoken seditious words against His Majesty, King James, et cetera, et cetera." "It is a lie!" I thundered. "Then come and prove it so before my Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys, at Dorchester," said he, folding up the paper with great care. Dorchester, whose prison was already full to overflowing! and Jeffreys, the heartless monster, who had just sent grey-haired, saintly Alice Lisle to death! I stood and stared until the horsemen, sitting there before me, seemed to vanish like a vision. But I was soon brought back to the grim reality of things. "Come!" said the captain, striking his jack-boot with the warrant. "There is no time to lose. We have a spare horse here; so, when you’re ready----" There was nothing for it but to go. Calling Tom, the groom, I told him quickly how things stood, at which his terror and amazement were such that he could only stand there dumb and gaping. So I mounted, and away we went. As we passed through the town the people stared at me as though the end of everything was come: but I took no heed of them; the world and everything therein seemed as nothing to me then. Thus that night found me in the jail at Dorchester. On the terrors of that pestilential place I will not dwell. Over three hundred prisoners were crowded there like cattle in a pen, and almost every one of them was doomed to certain death. The air was foul and stifling, while cries and groans of anguish made up such a scene of horror as no pen could properly describe. There were several faces there well known to me, and barely had I entered when a little wizened man came darting through the crowd and seized my hands. ’Twas old Samuel Robins, who, as you will remember, sold fish to Monmouth’s men aboard the frigate and was kept there. That was his crime. "Oh, Master Fane," he cried, looking up at me with wild imploring eyes, "what do it mean? What be Oi here for? I sold them fish as fair and straight as any man; fore-right I did, and how were Oi to know as it were Monmouth’s ship? Zur, zur! My pretty boo-at! What be they a-goin’ to do wi’ me and her? Get back, zur; go you to the King and tell en old Sam Robins ne’er did harm to any man." He tried to drag me to the door. Alas! he did not understand that I was just as helpless as himself. I tried to comfort him as best I could, but he only raved the louder, wringing his hands and asking God to save him and his "pretty boo-at".