“Your uncle’s friend must needs follow still, Mistress Carew,” he remarked; “the impudent knave never took his eyes from your face; he deserves chastisement.” Betty laughed softly. “Nay, sir,” she said in an amused tone, “surely the curiosity of a stranger is no great offence.” “I should be the happier for laying my sword across his shoulders, for all that,” retorted her companion. The young girl glanced at the dark figure on the threshold with new interest; she was not without enjoyment of the admiration that she was beginning to receive. One of the stable-boys came running with a lighted torch to help Sir William to adjust his saddle. Master Raby bent forward and took Betty’s bridle rein. “Let me guide thy beast, Mistress Carew,” he said. But she heard him not. The light of the torch flared full on the figure in the door. Even through the mist, which hung between like a thin veil, she saw the glittering dress, the dark face, and the scar across the left eyebrow. A moment afterwards, Carew’s party rode out of the yard. “Uncle, uncle,” cried Mistress Betty, in a strange voice, “who was yonder dark man that spoke with you?” “’Twas Henge, Sir Barton Henge,” said Carew; “but what is that to thee, wench?” CHAPTER X MISTRESS BETTY GOES TO COURT IT was an hour before noon and the gates of Greenwich palace stood open. A crowd of attendants and gentlemen ushers were assembled in the anterooms, and the royal guards lined the halls. The king and queen were holding a levee, and, as usual, there was a great concourse of people, and the river was dotted with barges, wherries and all sorts of water-craft.