The Pretender shrugged, and "Enfin," says he with a bitter laugh, and marched on with an air.
Masham, leaning against the wall and very white, muttered to himself, "My
God, my God!"
Harry ran forward to look after them. He saw Marlborough glance over the Pretender's shabby clothes and then, making some ostentation of it, put on his hat. The Pretender with a stare of disdain put on his—or Harry's. They came to the head of the grand staircase and went down. The servants in the hall sprang up and ran to open the doors for His Grace. Harry heard a din and a clang and saw a flash of steel as the guard outside presented arms. The two passed out and out of sight. For a little while the servants stood staring after them, and then came back to their chairs whispering.
Harry turned round to Masham. "What now?"
"Now?" Masham stared. "Now we may go hang ourselves."
"Like Judas? Damme, I don't feel the obligation. Do you, my lord?"
Masham swore at him and began to walk off.
"Can you lend me a humbler coat, my lord?" Harry cried. "I am no more use in this."
"I'll do no more in it," Masham growled. "Look to yourself."
"Enfin, as His Majesty says," quoth Harry with a laugh, and went on to look for the garden entry or any other humble door. He found it soon enough and was going through it—to be instantly beset by a sergeant's party and a joyful shout, "Odso, 'tis himself, 'tis the Chevalier."