Francis
trembled at his own devices and their possible consequences: Sir Giles
adopted his schemes, if promising, and laughed at the difficulties and
dangers that beset them. The one was the head; the other the arm. Not
that Sir Giles lacked the ability to weave as subtle a web of deceit as
his partner; but each took his line. It saved time. The plan of
licensing and inspecting taverns and hotels had originated with Sir
Francis, and very profitable it proved. But Sir Giles carried it out
much further than his partner had proposed, or thought prudent.

And they were as different in personal appearance, as in mental
qualities and disposition. Mompesson was the dashing eagle; Mitchell the
sorry kite. Sir Francis was weakly, emaciated in frame; much given to
sensual indulgence; and his body conformed to his timorous organization.
His shrunken shanks scarcely sufficed to support him; his back was bent;
his eyes blear; his head bald; and his chin, which was continually
wagging, clothed with a scanty yellow beard, shaped like a stiletto,
while his sandy moustachios were curled upward. He was dressed in the
extremity of the fashion, and affected the air of a young court gallant.
His doublet, hose, and mantle were ever of the gayest and most fanciful
hues, and of the richest stuffs; he wore a diamond brooch in his beaver,
and sashes, tied like garters, round his thin legs, which were utterly
destitute of calf. Preposterously large roses covered his shoes; his
ruff was a "treble-quadruple-dedalion;" his gloves richly embroidered; a
large crimson satin purse hung from his girdle; and he was scented with
powders and pulvilios. This withered coxcomb affected the mincing gait
of a young man; and though rather an object of derision than admiration
with the fair sex, persuaded himself they were all captivated by him.
The vast sums he so unjustly acquired did not long remain in his
possession, but were dispersed in ministering to his follies and
depravity. Timorous he was by nature, as we have said, but cruel and
unrelenting in proportion to his cowardice; and where an injury could be
securely inflicted, or a prostrate foe struck with impunity, he never
hesitated for a moment. Sir Giles himself was scarcely so malignant and
implacable.

A strong contrast to this dastardly debauchee was offered by the bolder
villain. Sir Giles Mompesson was a very handsome man, with a striking
physiognomy, but dark and sinister in expression. His eyes w