"Maybe 'tis your friend come at last to keep his appointment," said the stranger, whose eyes had for many minutes past been fixed on Charles. "Better late than never, you know," he added, putting his pipe back between his lips, which were curled into an ugly leer; and thrusting both hands into the pockets of his small clothes, he settled himself to watch the approach of a dense motley rabble enveloped in a cloud of dust, which suddenly broke with a renewed outburst of uproar, over the low wood garden-fence, trampling it under foot, till it lay scattered in all directions. On, on, tramp, tramp, surging to the very windows it came, amidst shrieks and whoops, and cries of "Shame! shame! give him a yard o' rope, fair play! God save the king!--The gallows tree's too good for him!"--Tramp, tramp, fell the heavy tread of hobnailed shoes, until the forest of pitchforks, cudgels, rusty firearms, spades, spuds, rakes, and every conceivable weapon and tool brandished aloft by the strange crew fell apart, and disclosed the cord-bound figure of Lawrence Lee. [Sidenote: The prisoner.] "What!" cried the king, starting in amazement. "Master Lee?" "And a right magnificent progress he appears to have made," said the stranger, with an insolent laugh, as he carefully laid aside his pipe and rose from his seat. "Ho! come, guards," he shouted through the open window; "bring in your prisoner;" and hustled forward along the broad passage, despite the proddings and fisticuffs dealt right and left by his guards, against whom Mistress Sheppard seconded her indignant protests, by the vigorous aid of her own hands and finger nails, Lee, deprived of all power of helping himself, stumbled head first into the presence of the king. "What does this mean?" cried Charles, as Lee, maintaining a stout resistance, succeeded for a moment in elbowing off the worst of the press, and hurrying forward, dropped, breathless and spent, upon one knee at the king's feet. "Your Majesty," he began. "The king?!!" broke in one universal shout of amazement from all present, excepting from the lips of Mistress Sheppard and Ruth Rumbold, and then an awe-stricken silence fell. "Tell me--" began the king. "I can tell your Majesty but this," said Lee, his voice falling clear and resonant through the utter stillness, "that I have been arrested by the order of the man who stands there, Richard Rumsey; but on what charge, I wait for him to say." "On the charge," said Rumsey, advancing from the shadows, like some savage beast from its lair, with an evil twitching of his lips, and a serpent-like glitter in his cold eyes, which, however, carefully eluded the gaze of all present--"the charge of the murder of Sheriff Goodenough." "What?!" shouted Lee, bounding to his feet. "Committed," calmly continued Rumsey, still looking into space, "in the Warder's Room of Master Rumbold's house yonder yesterday morning." [Sidenote: The witness.]