The King beckoned to him desperately.
The Duke was at his side in a moment.
"You must not leave me. You must come with me. I cannot face this—nightmare—alone," the King said in an urgent whisper. "I shall—lose my reason—if you leave me. I am not sure now, at this moment, whether I am asleep or awake. Do people talk in dreams? You seem real. All the rest, everything else is—the stuff of dreams. You cannot leave me."
The Duke waved the scarlet coated footman to one side, and got into the carriage, and sat down beside the King. His mere physical presence, his vitality, his energy, at once steadied the King. For one terrible moment, it had seemed to him that he was falling through infinite space—
A couple of the cars parked in the side road, beyond the signpost, shot forward, and swept on ahead up the main road.
A momentary bustle, a general movement, at the cross road, followed.
A curt word of command rang out, and the Household Cavalry wheeled, with the precision of clockwork, into position, in front of, and behind, the state carriage.
The scarlet coated footmen sprang up on to their stand, at the back of the carriage. The out-riders swung clear into their places. The postillions whipped up their horses—
The carriage moved forward.
As the carriage moved forward, the Duke dropped his left hand on to the seat, between the King and himself.