Chapter Eighteen.
The Doctor is busy.
But the King could not conceal his anxiety to be once more in the saddle en route for Windsor; and although Sir John Carrbroke urged him to remain so far as the dictates of hospitality required, yet he forbore when he saw the impatience of his guest to be once more on his way, and at dinner the night before the departure he spoke only of the journey to be undertaken on the following day.
“You will find the roads safe enough from here onward, sir,” he said courteously, and the King bowed gravely.
“I trust so,” he said; “I trust so. England had been represented to me as a land where everyone was safe.”
Sir John leaned forward.
“I doubt not,” he said, “that when you represent to his Majesty the peril you encountered the south will be cleared of that roving band.”
The King laughed.
“Well, we did something towards ridding the country of the robbers, eh, Leoni? I—” He stopped speaking, for at that minute there was the sound of a horse cantering into the courtyard, and a minute later Sir John’s own serving-man entered the apartment.