"Soho! And assassination to follow--eh? The old parrot screech," he went on, as Lee nodded. "Some new plot to rid the world of our sacred presence. Is that it?" "And of his Grace of York's, your majesty's august brother." "Why, that of course," laughed Charles, casting a mischievous glance at a sombre-browed gentleman seated near his own chair; "for to a dead certainty no man in England would take my life to make thee king, James." "Then," said the duke, accepting his brother's jest with a sullen smile, "if this young man is to be trusted--" "Ay, ay, IF," chorused several of the impatient company. "There your grace hits the bull's-eye. IF." "We are both doomed men," imperturbably concluded the duke. "And when," he added, addressing Lee, "is this to be?" "Ten days hence. On your return from this place." [Sidenote: Charles wakes up.] "Ods-fish! So they would take us red hot in our pleasures, would they? The scurvy crew! and where, prithee?" demanded Charles. "Near by Hoddesdon. Over against the Rye House." "The Rye House! Is not that how they call the ancient moated place that looks upon Master Izaak Walton's favourite old hostelry on the banks of the Lea?" "The same, your majesty." "And belongs, if we mistake not, to one Rum--Rum--" "--bold. Richard Rumbold, a maltster." "Ay; a prick-eared, Puritan-looking, malignant of a fellow, your majesty," interposed a twinkling-eyed gentleman, "who owns 'one daughter, passing fair,' as the dull old person does in the dull old play we all went to sleep over, a week or two since. Yes, yes; I remember her charming face well, and how the old curmudgeon came and dragged her in, sans cérémonie, from the little postern in the big red wall, where she was standing as pretty a framed picture as Lely or Sir Godfrey might make, to see your majesty's coach pass by. I' faith! I recall her well." "And your memory on such points is a proverb, my Lord of Dorset," laughed the king; "but in truth I remember myself thinking the picture so exquisite, that I intended asking who she was of the good hostess of the King's Arms, one Mistress--Mistress--" [Sidenote: A slip in a name.] "Sheppard," prompted Lee. "Ay, Sheppard, to be sure. A murrain befall me for forgetting the name of one who always professes such loyalty. Professes, friend," added the king in a significant tone. "'Tis but the expression of what her heart feels," replied Lawrence warmly. "Mistress Sheppard is as loyal as the sign that hangs before her door. Though for Master Sheppard--h'm, well, 'tis no matter," and Lawrence came to a dead halt. "We like not half-told tales, friend," sternly said the duke. "What of this fellow Sheppard?" "Nothing, I assure you, sir--my lord--your highness," floundered Lee. "Nothing. He is a man of straw, a poor weathercock of a creature a lamb could not fear." "Then whom the plague are we to fear?" demanded Charles testily.