"I am, sire. Nevertheless, I decline to escape by the road you are good enough to leave open."
"Your reasons?"
"They are private, as I had the honour to inform your Majesty."
"My lord," said the King, turning irritably to his companion, "what shall I do to this intractable old man? You have a voice in this, seeing that he has spoilt four of your favourite guards."
The tall man in scarlet bent and muttered a word or two in a low voice.
"Ah, to be sure: I had forgotten the youngster. Is this your son, sir?"
"By adoption only."
"A strapping fellow," said his Majesty, eyeing Tristram from head to foot.
"And as good as he's tall. Sire, his offence—if offence it be— arose from the affection he bears me, and from no worse cause. He would not willingly hurt a fly."
"What is he called?"