As Tom checked off his details, and the other boy nodded his head in recognition of them, the great audience and the officials stared in puzzled wonderment; the tale sounded like true history, yet how could this impossible conjunction between a prince and a beggar boy have come about? Never was a company of people so perplexed, so interested, and so stupefied before. "For a jest, my prince, we did exchange garments. Then we stood before a mirror; and so alike were we that both said it seemed as if there had been no change made--yes, you remember that. Then you noticed that the soldier had hurt my hand--look! here it is, I cannot yet even write with it, the fingers are so stiff. At this your Highness sprang up, vowing vengeance upon that soldier, and ran toward the door--you passed a table--that thing you call the Seal lay on that table--you snatched it up and looked eagerly about, as if for a place to hide it--your eye caught sight of--" "There, 'tis sufficient!--and the dear God be thanked!" exclaimed the ragged claimant, in a mighty excitement. "Go, my good St. John,--in an arm-piece of the Milanese armor that hangs on the wall, thou'lt find the Seal!" "Right, my king! right!" cried Tom Canty; "_now_ the sceptre of England is thine own; and it were better for him that would dispute it that he had been born dumb! Go, my lord St. John, give thy feet wings!" The whole assemblage was on its feet now, and well-nigh out of its mind with uneasiness, apprehension, and consuming excitement. On the floor and on the platform a deafening buzz of frantic conversation burst forth, and for some time nobody knew anything or heard anything or was interested in anything but what his neighbor was shouting into his ear, or he was shouting into his neighbor's ear. Time--nobody knew how much of it--swept by unheeded and unnoted.--At last a sudden hush fell upon the house, and in the same moment St. John appeared upon the platform and held the Great Seal aloft in his hand. Then such a shout went up! "Long live the true king!" For five minutes the air quaked with shouts and the crash of musical instruments, and was white with a storm of waving handkerchiefs; and through it all a ragged lad, the most conspicuous figure in England, stood, flushed and happy and proud, in the centre of the spacious platform, with the great vassals of the kingdom kneeling around him. Then all rose, and Tom Canty cried out:-- "Now, O my king, take these regal garments back, and give poor Tom thy servant his shreds and remnants again." The Lord Protector spoke up:-- "Let the small varlet be stripped and flung into the Tower." But the new king, the true king, said:--