"Ah! a pretty tale, quotha! But, say, how came ye by the Black Box which, as reported, held these treasonable things?" "My father took it years ago from Ferguson himself by force." "What!" cried Jeffreys, starting upright in his chair. "Attention, gentlemen, attention! Ah! so your father was a friend of Ferguson?" "He was no friend of his," I answered curtly. "My father met Ferguson in London, not knowing that ’twas he, for he called himself Elijah Annabat, and professed to be a scrivener in the city. My father trusted him with money, and, when robbed of it, took the Black Box instead." "Lies! lies! lies!" broke in Jeffreys like a maniac, waving his hands and fairly frothing at the mouth. "Oh, Michael Fane, thou wicked son of Anak! Truly, thou art the child of Ananias, of whom we read in Holy Scripture, and, like him, shalt pay the penalty. Ye hear him, gentlemen, how he doth add unto his infamy by mocking us with lying tongue. Was ever so much villainy encompassed in one man before? It seems scarce possible that only eighteen years can have borne so great a crop of evil fruit. The very sight of such a monster of iniquity doth make my eyes sore and my blood run cold. To think that our all-generous, wise, and loving king hath this creature for his subject is more than I can bear; yea, verily, it bursts my heart." With that he leaned forward, with his head upon his arms, and broke out sobbing. While he was thus engaged in grieving for my many sins, a man came pushing through the crowded court until he reached a place in front. To my astonishment I found that it was Dassell, who, as ye well remember, was so much to the fore at Monmouth’s landing. He turned and gave me one swift, meaning glance, then stood waiting till the judge at length looked up; then he spoke. "My lord," said he, "by your leave, I would say a word for yonder prisoner." "What’s that!" roared Jeffreys, glaring at him fiercely. "Have my senses left me? Ye would speak for yonder heap of infamy! Who are ye, fellow?" "I am Samuel Dassell, my lord, deputy searcher of the port of Lyme." "Ah, and what would ye say?" asked Jeffreys, with a heavy frown. "Why, this, my lord," said Dassell with great haste, "that I have known the prisoner, Michael Fane, and his father many years, and have ever found them true and loyal gentlemen. I never heard a whisper against either of them, and if----"