"Your Majesty may take my word for it," continued Lawrence. "I did but fire the wainscot of your chamber, as close as I could by the stone corridor, which I know cuts off all communication with the rest of the palace." "But how did you know that?" "One may learn a great deal--" "By opening one's mouth, hey, and asking questions?" [Sidenote: Lawrence dictates to the King.] "By keeping it shut, and listening," said Lawrence. "Your Majesty may trust me for minding what I was about, and that I risked no chance against that sweet lady's life, just for the sake of saving your Majesty's." "Well, well," said Charles, feeling more and more satisfied that he might place confidence in his deliverer. "But I like not these extremes," he went on, shivering and dragging his thin Indian silk garment about him. "First, you frizzle me within an inch of my life, and then you freeze me to the marrow. How long is it your pleasure that we stop in this dreary cellar?" "So please your Majesty's own pleasure, you might be sleeping in your own bed-chamber at Whitehall by this time to-morrow night? 'Twould be the best course I can advise." "I might do worse, I doubt," shivered the king. "But you must leave Newmarket unattended and secretly. My horse stands at your Majesty's service." "And a pretty figure I should cut upon him!" ruefully laughed the king, looking down at his airy attire. "To say nothing of my singed periwig here," and he passed his hand over the spot where the coal-black locks had been scorched and burnt. "Your Majesty would in any case be safer for finding one of another colour to travel in; and if you'll but keep moving, I'll warrant that Master Alworth will help you to it, and all else you may need." "Alworth! Richard Alworth!" cried Charles. "Ay," said Lawrence. "Your Majesty, I take it, can trust him." "With untold gold," warmly said the king--"with my crown jewels--" "With yourself, then." "Have with you, Master Lee;" and the last lingering doubt faded from his face. "Which way?" [Sidenote: The private stair.] "Up by this little staircase." CHAPTER XXVII. "IN THE NIGHT ALL CATS ARE GRAY." The after-supper nap indulged in by Master Alworth was no little affair of forty winks; and he would possibly have slept on till morning's light, had not the sound of countless tramping feet, and a deafening uproar of voices outside in the street, disturbed his repose.