But what struck Ned most forcibly was the singular appearance of his assassins, for as such he deemed them now to be.
They were all dressed in coarse baize coats, which reached to their knees, and were fastened in front by a huge clasp.
They wore leather breeches, covered by large top boots, which confined the greatest part of their legs.
Each of them had a couple of double-barrelled pistols stuck in his belt, and a rough beard flowed upon their breasts.
“I say, Nat!” cried one of the ruffians, “what shall we do with this black-looking scoundrel, the servant?”
“Why, leave him here, to be sure,” replied the tallest of the three, “and you shall guard him, it’s your turn to be on duty to-night, and you may as well take it here, as stand at the tower; and to keep you from the cold, here’s my cloak, which will keep out the shivers, I’ll warrant ye.”
This said he took the arm of his companion, and left Tim, with his guard, who began to pace up and down, without exchanging a single word with the prisoner.
But to return to Ned.
He shared no better fate than his servant, and before he had time to use his good sword, he was bound, and ordered to march forward.
He was led through the midst of five, and then into a sixth spacious apartment, dug in the earth, and lighted by a dim lamp, hanging in the centre.