“Why,” said Mr. Jermyn. “It's Martin Hyde, nephew to old Hyde across the way.”
“But he's overheard us,” put in Falk. “He's overheard us.”
“Come on downstairs. Bring him with you,” said the Duke. Lane took me by one arm. Mr. Jermyn took me by the other. They marched me downstairs to the council-room.
“Here, boy,” said Candlish, not unkindly. “Drink this wine.” He made me swallow a glass of Burgundy, which certainly did me a great deal of good. I was able to speak after drinking it.
“Now, Mr. Hyde,” said Mr. Jermyn. “How do you come to be in this house?”
“Take your time, boy,” said Lane.
“He's not a London boy?” said the Duke to Mr. Jermyn.
“No, sir,” he answered in a whisper. “Just come here from the country.”
“Please, your Majesty,” I began.
“So you're a young rebel,” said the Duke. “That shows he overheard us,” said Falk.