By the courtesy of Providence, it chanced that before Justice Pretyman was able to make the proper, necessary and entirely satisfactory rejoinder of “Bumpkin yourself, sir!” his small, birdlike eye lit upon the plum-colored cloak and the hat with the feather, and further, it caught a glimpse of a wonderful doublet of black satin barred with yellow. Therefore, was his rejoinder reduced from “Bumpkin yourself, sir!” to “I beg your pardon, sir,” with as little in the way of asperity and as much in the way of dignity as he could command. The personage in the plum-colored cloak smiled with a benign gravity. “If you are upon the Queen’s business, sir,” he said, “heaven forefend that I of all men should come between you and your high and honorable occasions. But, to be plain with you, I am bound to say you and your ragged robins have come here in a plaguy ill season.” “Od’s life, sir!” The hand of Justice Pretyman strayed involuntarily to the hilt of his sword. But again his eye caught the plum-colored cloak, and he thought the better of the matter. “I have written and signed authority,” he said, “to search this house for one Gervase Heriot, a notorious traitor, and that is a course I am determined to follow.” The man in the plum-colored cloak lowered his voice. “If such is your intention, sir, by all means pursue it,” he said. “But, before you do so, there is a matter of grave concern with which you will do well to make yourself acquainted. Perhaps, Master Davenant”--he turned to the innkeeper--“you will have the goodness to inform this gentleman of the matter in question?” Mine host demurred in a manner of obsequious reverence. “God forbid, sir, that I should expound the matter to the worshipful justice when you yourself are by,” he said, in a tone of awe. “As you will,” said the man in the plum-colored cloak. “The fact of the matter is, sir,” he said, turning to Justice Pretyman, who by this time was fully primed for some startling announcement, “a certain lady who is of the highest--I may say of the very highest--consideration has just arrived at this inn on her way to the north, and is lying here one night.” Justice Pretyman nodded with the gravity of a man who fully grasps the significance of such a piece of news. “Indeed, sir,” he said. “Is that the case? And may I presume, sir, to ask the name of this personage?” The man in the plum-colored cloak laid a finger to his lip. “Forgive me, Master Prettyfellow,” he said, “but your style and assemblance assure me that you are not unacquainted with the Court. Correct me if I err.” Justice Pretyman did not correct him. “And that being the case, I have the less compunction in withholding the name of the high personage who, at this moment, sheds upon this humble roof-tree the lively radiance of her presence. Master Prettyfellow, you take me, I trow and trust. You understand me, Master Prettyfellow?” The man in the plum-colored cloak laid a confidential hand upon the Justice’s sleeve.