This person was attired in black, with a broad-leaved hat pulled down over his brows.
"What doth this fellow here ?" demanded Mompesson.

"You do not need an assistant." "I know not that," replied the tormentor,--a big, brawny fellow, habited in a leathern jerkin, with his arms bared to the shoulder,--taking up his hammer and selecting a couple of sharp-pointed nails; "but in any case he has an order from the Council of the Star-Chamber to stand here.

And now, prisoner," he continued roughly and authoritatively,--"place your head in this hole, and your hands here." Since resistance would have been vain, Mompesson did as he was bidden.

A heavy beam descended over his neck and wrists, and fastened him down immovably; while, amid the exulting shouts of the spectators, his ears were nailed to the wood.

During one entire hour the ponderous machine slowly revolved, so as to exhibit him to all the assemblage; and at the end of that time the yet more barbarous part of the sentence, for which the ferocious mob had been impatiently waiting, was carried out.