It was hardly more than a glance in passing, and not more than he would have bestowed on any other pair of picturesque vagabonds, but brief as it was, there yet seemed in it a kind of subconscious recognition. The glance was withdrawn instantly to alight on Shakespeare, on whom it dwelt long enough for the recognition openly to declare itself. In this case it was followed by a shrug of insolent contempt. The newcomer then entered the inn. In the meantime, Gervase had grown as pale as if he had seen a ghost. But it was not until he was half-way across the inn courtyard that he revealed the cause of his emotion. “Did you, by any chance, recognize that fellow?” he asked. “Yes, I did,” said Shakespeare. “He is a man well known about the Court, a certain Sir Robert Grisewood.” “Yes, Sir Robert Grisewood,” said Gervase. “And it was he, at the instance of my Uncle Simon, who swore away my life.” The player stopped abruptly in the middle of the inn yard, an exclamation upon his lips. “That’s undoubtedly the man,” said Gervase, “by all that’s unlucky. Or may be it is not unlucky, since Providence works in ways so dark and strange.” “Wherein I fully agree,” said the player. “And it may be that even in this Providence is working for us in a mysterious way. But I hope this man did not know you.” “I think he did not,” said Gervase. “His eye would have dwelt longer if he had. But you he certainly recognized; moreover, he did not seem to approve you.” Shakespeare smiled. “He is one of a hundred bullies who ruffle it about the Court. When they are not cringing before their betters, they are generally browbeating those whom they are pleased to consider their inferiors.” “He is a very dangerous man,” said Gervase, “And if I cross his path, my life will not be worth an hour’s purchase.” “Well, the tiring-room is not far away,” said the player. “And there, I think, we can find you a disguise that will tax the wit of Sir Robert to penetrate.” The inn was a large, rectangular building, provided with galleries which overlooked the spacious courtyard. It was in this that the Lord Chamberlain’s servants had arranged to give the first of their performances that afternoon. The room to which the actor now led Anne and Gervase opened on to one of these galleries, at the extreme end of the yard. Here were all sorts of stage properties. Not only was there a number of costumes, but also there were wigs, powder and cosmetics and other trappings of the theater. Much searching among this apparel was necessary before clothes could be found which Shakespeare deemed suitable for Gervase and Anne. Many of these costumes were very rich; and at last an elegant suit of boy’s clothes was found for Anne. She went into a room adjoining to put it on. And, in the meantime, Gervase was provided with a much more elaborate disguise.