The man’s breath croaked and sobbed in his throat convulsively; but nothing human was heard from his lips. The King had passed out of the door; the officious Sergeant had escorted him through the last of his men, and, having done so, was returning with his head in the air, in a truly martial and self-satisfied manner. The landlord turned his bloodshot eyes upon him; his fingers clutched the air; the veins in his forehead continued to rise, until it seemed that they must break through the bloodless skin of his forehead; his voice came at last in an indistinct croak. The landlord’s extraordinary appearance drew the attention of the Sergeant. “Why, man,” he said, “what ails thee?” The landlord made a gurgle at the back of his throat. “Speak! what is it?” said the Sergeant. “The King,” said the landlord, forming a word at last. “Yes, the King; what of him?” said the Sergeant. “He is lying on his bed upstairs.” “No, no, no!” said the landlord. “No, no, no!” “Why, fool, what is the matter?” said the Sergeant, losing his patience. “The King is----!” The landlord fell back in his chair unconscious. [Illustration: CHAPTER XVI _The departing Guests_] The Sergeant unloosed the landlord’s coat and ordered one of his men to procure water and dash it in his face. But Gamaliel had gone too far to be brought round easily, and the time spent in restoring him to his senses was the King’s deliverance. Presently the landlord opened his eyes and looked about him. The reaction brought with it a full measure of consciousness, and with it a command of his faculties. He could think; and, now it was too late, the power of speech was again vouchsafed to him. “The King went out at that door!” he cried. “The King is escaped! That was the King you conducted to the door.” “What do you mean?” demanded the astonished Sergeant. “Speak, clown and fool that you are! I tell you the King is upstairs.” The landlord had now the power to unbosom his soul; and there was such a singular fervour of conviction in his words, that the soldier, vividly impressed by them, and bewildered by them too, made all haste up the stairs to Captain Culpeper, who, as he supposed, was still attending on the King. The thoroughly alarmed and uneasy Sergeant came to him at the side of the bed, and recited the landlord’s story. “What is this you say, Sergeant Williams?” said the Captain. His heart sank with an overmastering foreboding that the landlord had spoken the truth. He had not known the King when he entered the chamber, never having set eyes upon his Majesty before; and none of his men knew him either--they had only hearsay to guide them. Could it be that he was the victim of a trick. He turned furiously upon the man in the bed and the woman beside him. “My God!” he said, “you have duped me; you have deceived me. The King’s servitor was the King. You have been playing a part.”