"Devil a one," the youth answered, cheerily, and Sir Rufus would have liked to drive a knife into him for his mirth, though his spirits rose at his answer. "I thought to take my cousin by surprise, scare her with my ghost, maybe. So I came skulking through the park and ran on this good sir, who nabbed me." He indicated Halfman with a wave of the hand. "I explained to him, so that my joke should not spoil, and he smuggled me in here to surprise you. Where is Brilliana?" Rufus looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you fresh enough to ride?" he asked. "If need be," Randolph replied, astonished. Rufus talked rapidly, writing a letter as he spoke. "Then you may save your Puritan yet. We sent your hostage to Oxford for safe-keeping. News came of your death, and but now the King sent an order to have the fellow shot. But you can overtake the order, outstrip it. Here is a reprieve for the prisoner." Rufus folded the paper, sealed it, and handed it to the bewildered Randolph. "Pick what horse you please, and ride for the honor of our cause." Randolph gasped. "May I not see the King?" Rufus refused him firmly. "Impossible. His Majesty sleeps." "My cousin Brilliana?" Randolph asked. "What of my joke?" Rufus spoke very solemnly. "The one thing now is to save a man's life. Ride hard, and God speed you." Randolph yielded cheerfully. "Well, well, I should be sorry the rebel dog should die wrongfully. You will justify me to the King for not attending him?" Rufus nodded. "I will justify you to his Majesty." "And not a word to Brilliana," Randolph iterated. "I will have my joke on my return. Farewell." He muffled himself again and went out quickly. Rufus sat biting the end of his quill. Halfman stepped forward and made him a series of extravagant salutations, which parodied the most elaborate congees of a dancing-master. Rufus glared at him. "What is the matter with you?" he asked, savagely. Halfman leered apishly at him. "You are a splendid scoundrel," he vowed. "Do not frown. I have lived with such and I speak in praise." Rufus struck his hands upon the table. "I will have this Puritan devil," he swore, "if the King do not play the granny." Halfman winked at him, diverted by his heat and hate. "Say that more softly, for I think I hear him stirring." The two listened in silence. The curtains of the inner room were parted and Charles entered the room. He still looked haggard, ill at ease. "Was any one here?" he asked, as the two men rose respectfully. Rufus answered, glibly: "No, your Majesty. We spoke in whispers to respect your rest. Did your Majesty sleep well?" "Ill, very ill," Charles answered, drearily. "I had bad dreams and could not wake from them. Leave me, sirs." Rufus solicited his eyes. "And the prisoner?" Charles looked at him vaguely. "The prisoner?" "The rebel hostage for murdered Randolph Harby," Rufus reminded him. Charles looked vexed.