It befell in the nick of time for Nell, as all things, indeed, in life seemed to befall in the nick of time for her. The impious huswives shook their heads and attributed it to the evil influence; the pious huswives asserted it was providential; Nell herself laughingly declared it was her lucky star.
“Ho, without there!” Charles cried, impatiently–almost angrily–at the interruption. “Whence comes this noisy riot?”
James, Rochester and the others unceremoniously re-entered.
“Pardon, Sire,” explained the Duke of York; “the guard caught but now an armed ruffian prowling by the house. They report they stayed him on suspicion of his looks and insolence.”
“Adair! Adair! My life upon’t!” laughed the King, ever ready for sport. “Set him before us.”
An officer of the guard departed quickly to bring in the offender. The courtiers took up the King’s cry most readily; and there was a general cackle of “Adair!” “Adair!” “A trial!” “Sire!” “Bring in the coward!”
Nell stood in the midst of the scene, the picture of demure innocence.
“They’ve caught Adair!” she whispered to Moll, mischievously.
“Aye, gallants,” cried the Merry Monarch, approvingly, “we’ll form a Court of Inquiry. This table shall be our bench, on which we’ll hem and haw and puff and look judicial. Odsfish, we will teach Radamanthus and Judge Jeffreys ways of terrorizing.”
He sprang upon the table, which creaked somewhat beneath the royal burden, and assumed the austere, frowning brow of worldly justice.