But the watchman laughed more immoderately than before.
"Oho! . . . ho! ho! ho! that's a likely tale, my wench, there's many a young woman has business with His Grace, I'll warrant. . . . But thou'st best tell that tale to the Duchess of Lincoln first. . . . Business with the Duke of Wessex . . . ha! ha! ha! . . ."
"My friend," here interposed a gentle, very urbane voice, "meseems thy zeal somewhat outruns thy discretion. If this child has indeed business with the Duke of Wessex, His Grace might prefer that thou shouldst keep a quieter tongue in thy head."
The Cardinal, at sound of the Duke's name, had gradually drawn nearer to the group. Lord Everingham, impelled by the same natural curiosity, had followed him.
"You would wish to speak with His Grace, child?" continued His Eminence with that same gentle benevolence which inspired an infinity of confidence in the unwary. "Do you know him?"
The watchman, astonished, abashed, very highly perplexed at this unexpected interference, was rendered absolutely speechless. The girl had turned defiantly on her new interlocutor, whose outline she could but vaguely distinguish in the darkness.
"What's it to you?" she retorted with obvious suspicion and mistrust.
"Not much I own," replied the Cardinal with imperturbable kindliness; "I only thought that being alone and perhaps frightened you would be glad of some help."
"Your Eminence . . ." stammered the watchman, who was trying to recover his speech.
"Silence!" commanded His Eminence. "I wish to speak with this young woman alone."