Amid the confusion of the moment, he could descry the face of the
victualler, arrested into a stare of stolid wonder, and that of the
barber grinning betwixt horror and eager curiosity. He thought that he
also had a glimpse of his waterman in the green jacket.
He had no time for remarks, being placed in a boat with the pursuivant
and two yeomen of the guard, and rowed up the river as fast as the
arms of six stout watermen could pull against the tide. They passed
the groves of masts which even then astonished the stranger with the
extended commerce of London, and now approached those low and
blackened walls of curtain and bastion, which exhibit here and there a
piece of ordnance, and here and there a solitary sentinel under arms,
but have otherwise so little of the military terrors of a citadel. A
projecting low-browed arch, which had loured over many an innocent,
and many a guilty head, in similar circumstances, now spread its dark
frowns over that of Nigel. The boat was put close up to the broad
steps against which the tide was lapping its lazy wave. The warder on
duty looked from the wicket, and spoke to the pursuivant in whispers.
In a few minutes the Lieutenant of the Tower appeared, received, and
granted an acknowledgment for the body of Nigel, Lord Glenvarloch.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Ye towers of Julius! London's lasting shame;
With many a foul and midnight murder fed!
_Gray.
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