“What is the meaning of this, master jailor?” demanded the giant, sternly.
“He is arrested by order of the council. There is the warrant,” replied Nightgall.
“Arrested!” exclaimed Xit. “For what?”
“For conspiring against the queen,” replied Nightgall.
“I am innocent of the charge,” replied Xit.
“That remains to be proved,” replied Nightgall.
“I have no fears,” rejoined Xit, recovering his composure,—“but if I must lose my head, like his grace of Northumberland, I will make a better figure on the scaffold. I shall be the first dwarf that ever perished by the axe. Farewell, Gog. Comfort thyself, I am innocent. Lead me away, thou caitiff jailor.”
So saying, he folded his arms upon his breast, and preceded by Nightgall, marched at a slow and dignified pace between his guards.