"Traitor, I warned thee beforetime. Now will I unrobe thy villany to its
very nakedness."
The hermit, thrusting one hand beneath the garment of his victim, drew
forth the real deed, which had been dexterously exchanged by the wily
priest for his own fraudulent imposture. He then loosened his grasp, and
placed the real instrument in the hands of the baron.
"'Tis a forgery--- a base disposal of my rights," roared out the
infuriate and detected hypocrite.
But Roger de Lacy immediately saw that the deed was to a similar purport
with the copy which had been sent by some unknown hand, immediately on
the death of the testator, to Halton Castle.
With a look of devouring and terrible indignation he cried out--
"Though thou wert the holy pontiff himself, and all the terrors of the
Church were at thy command, thou shouldst not escape my vengeance, thou
daring priest! To the Furca!--his offence is repugnant to my
nostrils--'tis rank with treason!"
"Hold!" cried the mysterious hermit; "I have promised him protection,
nor shall the promise be foregone."
"Thou!" cried the warrior, with unfeigned astonishment; "and who art
thou that seemest here the arbiter of destiny, whether good or evil?"
"A sinful but heaven-destined man," replied the hermit, meekly.
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