"Mr. Inglesant saw something," said both the gentlemen at once; "he came in here as you gave the alarm."
"I saw nothing," said Inglesant; "whatever frightened me I must tell the King."
Dr. Mayern, who lodged in the palace, soon arrived; and as the King was sensible when he came, he merely prescribed some soothing drink, and soon left. The moment he was gone the King called Abergavenny into the room alone to him, and questioned him as to what had occurred. Abergavenny told him all he knew, adding that the esquire in waiting, Mr. Inglesant, was believed to have seen something by the gentlemen of the privy chamber, whom he had aroused. Inglesant was sent for, and found the King and Abergavenny alone. He declined to speak before the latter, until the King positively commanded him to do so. Deadly pale, with his eyes on the ground, and speaking with the greatest difficulty, he then told his story; of the deep silence, his restlessness, the sentry's challenge, and the apparition that appeared. Here he stopped.
"And this figure," said Abergavenny in a startled whisper, "did you know who it was?"
"Yes, I knew him," said the young man; "would to God I had not."
"Who was it?"
Paler, if possible, than before, and with a violent effort, Inglesant forced himself to look at the King.
A contortion of pain, short but terrible to see, passed over the King's face, but he rose from the chair in which he sat (for he had risen from the bed and even dressed himself) and, with that commanding dignity which none ever assumed better than he, he said,—
"Who was it? Mr. Esquire."
"My Lord Stafford."