The journey was rather a silent one, and what conversation there was, was principally sustained by the count. Hubert's usual flow of pertinent chat seemed to have forsaken him, and Sir Norman had so many other things to think of--Leoline, Ormiston, Miranda, and the mysterious count himself--that he felt in no mood for talking. Soon, they left the city behind them; the succeeding two miles were quickly passed over, and the “Golden Crown,” all dark and forsaken, now hove in sight. As they reached this, and cantered up the road leading to the ruin, Sir Norman drew rein, and said: “I think our best plan would be, to dismount, and lead our horses the rest of the way, and not incur any unnecessary danger by making a noise. We can fasten them to these trees, where they will be at hand when we come out.” “Wait one moment,” said the count, lifting his finger with a listening look. “Listen to that!” It was a regular tramp of horses' hoofs, sounding in the silence like a charge of cavalry. While they looked, a troop of horsemen came galloping up, and came to a halt when they saw the count. No words can depict the look of amazement Sir Norman's face wore; but Hubert betrayed not the least surprise. The count glanced at his companions with a significant smile, and riding back, held a brief colloquy with him who seemed the leader of the horsemen. He rode up to them, smiling still, and saying, as he passed, “Now then, Kingsley; lead on, and we will follow!” “I go not one step further,” said Sir Norman, firmly, “until I know who I am leading. Who are you, Count L'Estrange?” The count looked at him, but did not answer. A warning hand--that of Hubert--grasped Sir Norman's arm; and Hubert's voice whispered hurriedly in his ear: “Hush, for God's sake! It is the king!” CHAPTER XX. AT THE PLAGUE-PIT. The effect of the whisper was magical. Everything that had been dark before, became clear as noonday; and Sir Norman sat absolutely astounded at his own stupidity in not having found it out for himself before. Every feature, notwithstanding the disguise of wig and beard, became perfectly familiar; and even through the well-assumed voice, he recognized the royal tones. It struck him all at once, and with it the fact of Leoline's increased danger. Count L'Estrange was a formidable rival, but King Charles of England was even more formidable.