A parcel had been left for him at the Tower.

It appeared to be a barrel of Colchester oysters, his favourite dainties.

He was greatly moved: for there are moments when those who least deserve affection are pleased to think that they inspire it.

"Thank God," he exclaimed, "I have still some friends left." He opened the barrel; and from among a heap of shells out tumbled a stout halter, [412] It does not appear that one of the flatterers or buffoons whom he had enriched out of the plunder of his victims came to comfort him in the day of trouble.

But he was not left in utter solitude.