I therefore led the way into a room where such quietness could be found, and then, having bid them sit down near the window, I was able to get a better view of them. They were both young men, not, as I judged, more than thirty years of age, and I was not long in coming to the conclusion that Caleb Bullen had judged rightly when he said they were men of quality. Both were very richly attired in the kind of finery which came into vogue directly the king returned and though, as I judged, both had been drinking much wine, they carried their wine well, and shewed no sign of loss of sense. "We hear you were at Dover when his Majesty landed Master Rashcliffe, and that you impressed him favourably. It is better to be born lucky than rich, for, by my soul, his Majesty hath had so many hangers on since he entered his faithful London that none of us, save a very few of his chosen ones, can get more than a nod or a wave of his hand." "I was indeed in Dover," I replied, "and a gay sight it was." "The king spoke graciously to you, we heard." "I was fortunate beyond my deserts." "Ah, say not so, say not so. Corks will swim, and those whom the gods favour will obtain the smile of kings. We are even now here on an errand which, if it means not royal favour, is so near to it that a man can scarcely distinguish it from such." Again I examined them closely, and tried to guess from whence they came and who sent them. "Ah, but we have come here like a couple of grooms," the spokesman of the two went on. "But forgive us, Master Rashcliffe. Manners, like everything else, need constant practice, and since these Dissenters and Puritans have ruled the land, there hath been no opportunity of showing courtesy due from one gentleman to another. To such a state hath these rascally psalm-singing knaves brought us. Let me say, then, that the name of my friend here is the Honourable John Burleigh, youngest son of Lord Burleigh, while I am Stanley Carew, son of Sir William Carew, of Cornwall." I bowed ceremoniously, even as they had done when they told me their names. Upon this Master Stanley Carew looked around the room as though some one was in hiding; then, upon being assured that we were alone, he went on-- "We have come to you from one of royal blood, Master Rashcliffe, with royal commands." "From the king?" I asked. "Nay, not from the king, that is exactly, but doubtless this letter will explain much to you." I took the letter, and noted that the paper was emblazoned with the royal arms. It contained only these words: "_Master Roland Rashcliffe is commanded to appear before us to-night at Whitehall at the hour of eight._"