"Oh, dear, no," replied Lakyn, with a proud toss of the head. "My master is much too great a man, as you well know, to make petitions. If any one wants his services they must petition him, and are very likely to get refused even then. I do not know, for I have not seen, what the letter contains; but I rather think it is a civil excuse for not coming to wait upon the King. But, you know, he is tired of courts, and wishes to spend the rest of his life in peace, doing good to all around him by his wonderful wisdom." "Oh, if that be all," cried the servant, "it will soon be done. It is of those who come to court great men are afraid, not those who stay away from it. Come away up with me to the house yonder; and, as Sir Robert gets off his horse after the hunting, you may deliver him the letter yourself." Lakyn was in the midst of his reply, telling the servant that there was a party waiting for him at the inn, and that he would but give them notice, and return in a minute, when there was a sudden cry of "The King! the King!" All was in a moment bustle and confusion. Some men on horseback, riding forward, drove back the crowd on either side of the road, making a lane for the royal cavalcade to pass; and, in the change of movements which took place,--as these harbingers were careful to treat more roughly those they did not know than those they did, it naturally happened that the servant of Sir Robert Cecil and his friend obtained a position in front of the rest. "Now," said the man, "now! My master is coming just behind the King, on this side. Step forward with me as he passes, and give him the letter. I will tell him who you are." Lakyn looked down the street, and, at the distance of about thirty yards beheld a somewhat corpulent and heavy-looking man, on horseback, riding with a slouching and uneasy air, coarse in feature, clumsy in person, with his broad lips partly open, and the tip of his tongue visible beneath his teeth. He had a small cap or bonnet on his head, and a long feather, clasped by a large jewel. His dress was of a bright, and somewhat glaring green; a hunting-horn hung at his side, and a long knife, but no sword; and ever and anon, as the people shouted, "God save the King! God save King James!" he bowed his head with a sidelong inclination, which was anything but graceful, though he seemed by his self-satisfied look to fancy it very gracious. Behind him came a crowd of gentlemen, amongst the first of whom appeared a personage, who, though slightly deformed, displayed the dignified carriage of an English gentleman, and sat his fiery horse with ease and grace. Lakyn immediately recognised Cecil, and was in the act of stepping forward to speak to him, when, putting his hand to the black velvet pouch, which, suspended by a belt over his shoulder, contained the important letter, he found the fingers of a stranger, armed with a knife, busily employed in cutting it away from his side.