CHAPTER X.The Prince in the toils.
We left John Canty dragging the rightful prince into Offal Court, with a noisy and delighted mob at his heels.

There was but one person in it who offered a pleading word for the captive, and he was not heeded; he was hardly even heard, so great was the turmoil.

The Prince continued to struggle for freedom, and to rage against the treatment he was suffering, until John Canty lost what little patience was left in him, and raised his oaken cudgel in a sudden fury over the Prince's head.

The single pleader for the lad sprang to stop the man's arm, and the blow descended upon his own wrist.

Canty roared out-- "Thou'lt meddle, wilt thou?
Then have thy reward." His cudgel crashed down upon the meddler's head: there was a groan, a dim form sank to the ground among the feet of the crowd, and the next moment it lay there in the dark alone.