Rufus struck his hands upon the table.
“I will have this Puritan devil,” he swore, “if the King do not play the granny.”
Halfman winked at him, diverted by his heat and hate.
“Say that more softly, for I think I hear him stirring.”
The two listened in silence. The curtains of the inner room were parted and Charles entered the room. He still looked haggard, ill at ease.
“Was any one here?” he asked, as the two men rose respectfully. Rufus answered, glibly:
“No, your Majesty. We spoke in whispers to respect your rest. Did your Majesty sleep well?”
“Ill, very ill,” Charles answered, drearily. “I had bad dreams and could not wake from them. Leave me, sirs.”
Rufus solicited his eyes.