"Forgotten your own handiwork?" asked the earl, in the silkiest tone. Boswell was so confounded by the question that he had nothing to say. Before he could recover himself, the earl cried-- "Into the rack with him." In little more than the twinkling of an eye, the men had pounced on him, stripped him to his shirt, and tied his feet and hands. It made one shudder to think what long practice had made them so dexterous at the work. They plied their levers, until their victim was stretched, and one heard wrists and ankle-joints crack sickeningly. At a downward wave of the earl's hand they stayed. "Why did you not report to my secretary the errors in this description?" "The proclamation had been posted far and wide before I knew of it; and I was afraid to mention the marks, lest I should be further questioned concerning them, and I thought to take Vavasour myself." Again the earl's hand moved, and the levers moved. "Mercy, my lord, mercy!" groaned the gipsy. "You kept the knowledge to yourself, at the imminent risk of the murderer's escape, in hope to make sure of the reward." "Yes." "When and where did you inflict the wounds?" "Last August in Melwood Priory. Mercy, my lord." "To what end?" "Because my Lord Sheffield desired to have him sent to the plantations under the name and likeness of one Jim Ulceby." The earl sat silent for what seemed a long time, Boswell moaning feebly the while. Then again the hand waved, the levers moved, and Boswell shrieked in agony. "My son gave you order to mutilate Vavasour?" "Yes; I did all by his lordship's command.'" "Take both prisoners away and bestow them safely in separate dungeons," said his lordship; "and bring me a cordial, Nicholas." The secretary motioned to me to follow him, and two of the men came behind me. Pennington led the way down the winding stairs to a dungeon lighted only by a slit in the wall, and containing no other furniture than a stone table. "'Tis more than a trifle cold here, Master Pennington," said I. "Some straw for one's feet, and a wrap for one's body, would be welcome." "I will take my lord's pleasure on the matter," replied the secretary, who, to do him justice, had little of the Jack-in-office in his manners. "Pray remind him, Master Pennington, that I have saved him a hundred pounds, which deserves acknowledgment." I thought I saw a faint smile on the man's face as he answered-- "You take things easily for a prisoner charged with the murder of the heir to an earldom." "Charged with nothing as yet, and well prepared to clear myself from any such accusation, when I am brought into court of law." "The President of the Council has large discretion and plenary powers; nay, has in a sense the royal prerogative," rejoined the secretary. "Give you my word, I never heard that the King had prerogative to hang a man without trial." Master Pennington made me no answer to this, but withdrew, barring and locking the door on the outside.