With that he put spurs to his horse and galloped away. Now what was I to do? It was evident that it might be difficult to get entrance to Stenwold House, and more difficult to get access to the King. I did not want to play my trump card, Lord Jeffreys' note, until the last moment. Yet, what could I do without it? If I had time, I might perhaps have managed to scale the walls in some way and effect an entrance by stealth, but I had no time. Too much had been wasted as it was. I judged it to be about eight o'clock. I was morally certain that I would be in good time, but I did not dare to tempt Fortune too long and too much. I knew that King James would at first try cajolery and persuasion--that was his usual method; not until they failed would he try bribery, being a niggardly monarch, and only in the last instance would he resort to force. I could picture accurately what was about to happen, the course of affairs was clear to me, but to effect anything I must get in the castle, and boldness was my only resource. It was fortunate for me that the King had chosen to lie at Stenwold House instead of the Castle at Sunderland, across the river. It would have been difficult, if not impossible, to have effected my purpose had he been there. Here it was easier. At most he would be surrounded by but few of his guards; perhaps he would be depending entirely upon Stenwold's retainers for protection. The King was not more bold in his debaucheries and abductions than he was on the field of battle or anywhere else, and it may be that some lingering sense of shame might cause him to conduct his disgraceful amour in secret when he could do it. I did not stand still in the road making these reflections; on the contrary, they came to me as I galloped swiftly toward the house. The castle was an old one, built God knows how many centuries before and added to from time to time. The rambling walls were surrounded by a moat now gone dry, which was crossed by a drawbridge never raised. I thundered up to the gate at full speed, flung myself from my horse, knowing full well he was tired and would stand until doomsday, unless driven away, in case I needed him again. And, with the hilt of my sword, I knocked heavily upon the panel of the great door. A wicket-gate at the side was instantly opened and a man in the uniform of the King's Guards peered through. Light was shed upon us from a flaming cresset hanging over the arch of the main door; by it I saw him plainly and recognised him, too. His name was Harkins; he was a sergeant, an old comrade and friend who had been in my own company of the Royal Guards. The recognition was mutual, but, before he could speak, I interrupted him. "Sergeant," said I, "you don't know me, you have never seen me before, understand?" "N-n-no, sir," was the astonished answer. "Well, these are facts; get them in your mind," I insisted sharply.