"_Laissez-lui,_ Cyprien," Madame Bonaventure interposed;--"the
courteous knight will yield to my entreaties, and stay of his own free
will."
"I have business that calls me hence. I must go," Sir Francis said,
endeavouring to push by them.
"Let the door be closed," an authoritative voice cried from the head of
the table.
The order was instantly obeyed. Two serving-men stationed themselves
before the place of exit, and Sir Francis found himself a prisoner.
The roof rang with the laughter and gibes of the guests.
"This is a frolic, gentleman, I perceive. You are resolved to make me
your sport--ha! ha!" Sir Francis said, trying to disguise his uneasiness
under an appearance of levity--"But you will not carry the jest too far.
You will not maltreat me. My partner, Sir Giles Mompesson, will be here
anon, and will requite any outrage committed upon me."
"Sir Giles is impatiently expected by us," a spruce coxcomb near him
replied. "Madame Bonaventure had prepared us for his coming. We will
give him the welcome he deserves."
"Ah! traitress! then it was all planned," Sir Francis thought;--"and,
blind owl that I am, I have fallen into the snare."
But the poor knight was nearly at his wit's end with fright, when he saw
Lord Roos quit his place at the upper table and approach him.
CHAPTER VII.
How Lord Roos obtained Sir Francis Mitchell's signature.
"What, my prince of usurers!" exclaimed Lord Roos, in a mocking tone;
"my worthy money-lender, who never takes more than cent.
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