"Shalt have it, whatever it is, only make thy word good," said he, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on me. "The boon I ask is liberty for the prisoner on the rack." "Release her," he ordered. "And now where is Vavasour." "Here, my lord--I am he." The earl rose from his seat, and sank back again, staring. The clerk let fall the pen with which he had been making notes. The four men who had lowered Bess to the floor gazed on me open-mouthed. She was the first to speak. "Your lordship, this is a poor fellow who has had his head turned by trouble, and his craze is to think himself Frank Vavasour; but his true name is Jack Unwin. He has J.U. tattooed on his chest." At a sign from the earl, the men laid hands on me and bared my breast, while the old nobleman sat choking with rage and mortification, glaring from me to Bess, and from Bess to me. "My lord," said I, "you have given me your word to let the prisoner go free. Her subsequent lie, meant to shield and save me, will not hinder the fulfilment of your promise. As for these marks on my breast, and these scars on my face, the man who inflicted them is now in your steward's room, and may be compelled to say why he made them, if that be your pleasure. But of a surety I am Frank Vavasour, at one time your son Edmund's boyish friend, and familiar with everything in this castle." The earl rubbed his hands. "Vavasour, assuredly," he said. "The matchless impudence proves the breed." He turned to Bess, who had taken her stand in the utmost shadow she could find. "Get you gone, jade, before I order you a whipping." Then he gave instructions to the steward and the scribe. "Nicholas, bring hither the fellow Boswell, saying nothing of what has passed here. Fetch your book of depositions and informations, Pennington." Bess looked at me reproachfully as she went out, and I answered her with a smile, glad to note she walked not amiss for one who had been stretched on the rack. For the minute or two, while the steward and clerk were absent, the earl leaned back in his chair, gloating on me like a cat on the mouse she has struck. When they returned, he said-- "Boswell, look at this fellow, who says he is Frank Vavasour. What sayest thou?" For half a second the gipsy hesitated. "Quick, man, speak the truth, or----" and his lordship finished his sentence by a motion of the hand toward the rack. "It is the man, your lordship." "Pennington, read me the description of Vavasour given in our proclamation." When the clerk had done so, the earl turned on Boswell. "How comes it that you, who were in my son's service, and knew this man, did not inform Pennington of the errors in this document? There is not a word here of scars on the face or marking on the breast. What is the meaning of this? Subornation?" "No, my lord. I did not know of the scars; or if I did, I had forgotten them." It was amazing to me that the ready, crafty villain should bungle and blunder so.