The strange visitor, still repeating “How odd; ’od’s fish, how very odd!” in various inflections of tone, was preparing to take his departure, when the particular thing occurred that the landlord so desired to avert. The stairs began to creak, and the King’s long legs were observed to be coming down them.
“My dear Colonel,” said the King, heartily, “I thought I could not be mistaken in your voice. It penetrated upstairs to my chamber, and I judged by the sound of it that our landlord was putting you off. I was half expecting you to-night.”
The visitor greeted the King in the curious manner that the singular circumstances demanded. While he contrived to throw a vast amount of respect into his demeanour, he shot a number of questioning glances from the King’s face to that of the landlord. Plainly he was wishing to be advised of how much Gamaliel actually knew concerning the King’s identity.
“The murder is out,” said the King, laughing. “There are no longer any secrets between Boniface and ourselves.”
“Then, Sire,” said the Colonel, “permit me to say that I think mine host to be a very honest fellow. Landlord, you did well to conceal the whereabouts of the King from one who was a total stranger to you. You exercised a rare discretion, landlord, and I am sure his Majesty will not be in the least likely to forget it.”
“By my faith! yes,” said the King, heartily; and then added frankly: “After all, I believe I have done less than justice to our Boniface.”
The landlord bowed low. His ears tingled to hear his praises sung. He felt it to be a somewhat ironical world, however. The sweat burst out of the roots of his hair; he knew what Judas Iscariot felt like, of old, when he sat at the Last Supper.
“Sire,” said the visitor, “all the arrangements are made and the coast is clear. I am assured that there are no Roundheads nearer than Woolden Magna, a hamlet some fifteen miles along the coast. To-night, therefore, under the cover of the darkness, you will be able to push on to Titcomb Place, the house of Mr. John Pocock. You will there be able to lie in a better security. You will be able to wash your face, Sire, and adopt a raiment less out of keeping with your condition.”
“My present one is by no means out of keeping with my condition, Colonel,” said the King, with a sudden bitterness. “The condition of a dog is that of a gentleman by comparison.”
The Colonel sighed; his grizzled face was full of distress.