"In a fashion, ay, yes, as he has ridden by yonder in his coach, and his Grace of York too of course, but 'tis such a glimpse; just enough to set one caring to look him face to face. Have you ever done that, father?" "No--yes--I scarcely know," frowned Rumbold. "'Tis a right kind merry face, isn't it?" "I see no such things in it," growled Rumbold; "an ordinary swarthy one enough to my thinking." "Yet Goodman Speedwell, when he went up to London last year to sell his pigs, said 'twas a rare and gracious one, and a pure fine sight to see him playing with his little dogs in Saint James's Park, and feeding the ducks in the canal with his own royal hands. Oh, he must be a pleasant-humoured gentleman!" "He's just a mortal man, I take it, very mortal, and when he's angered spares none, for all his fine forgetting and forgiving talk." "There it is," said Ruth, "'tis scarce to be expected that he who has been so wronged, should be so forgiving as the Bible would have us. Nowadays, if a man sin against his brother, and kings are our brothers, eh, father? in a fashion of speaking they are our elder brothers, eh, father, dear?" "Beshrew thee, child," impatiently frowned the maltster, "what has come to you?" "I say 'tis a stretch if that man shall be forgiven twice, that is what I am thinking of; and those who plotted the killing of Charles the First, and were pardoned, would scarce be let go a second time, if--if--" she faltered, and coloured deeply. "If what, mistress?" sternly challenged Rumbold. "If they should harbour ill thoughts against Charles the Second." It was the maltster's turn to look aside, as she lifted her appealing eyes to his face. "Come, come," he said, "a truce to this silly chatter. Good-night; and hark you, give me the key of the communicating door between your chamber and the Warder's Room. Have it you about you?" [Sidenote: The key of the warder's room.] "Yes, father; here," and she disengaged one of the keys from the bunch hanging at her girdle, and handed it to him, wonderingly. "Very good," he said, taking it from her and pocketing it, "'tis your own fault, for your carelessness, Ruth," he went on; "this morning was the second time I found that door ajar. If I find it so ever again, I'll have it walled up. For the present I'll hold the key in my keeping." "But, father," protested Ruth, "Adam Lockit--" "Adam Lockit grows stupid and deaf, and Diggles is but one remove from an idiot, and the arrantest coward breathing." "Only about ghosts, father; you should see him lay about him with the cudgels on double his size in flesh and blood. And he's keen as any hare for the slightest sound or stir." [Sidenote: An abrumpt "good-night."] "Humph!" said the maltster, "flibbertigibbets, all should be abed and snoring by nine o' the clock. So good-night, child, and pleasant dreams." And with another kiss, Rumbold dismissed his daughter. CHAPTER XIII. THE SLIDING PANEL.