Crestfallen, the old Scotchman crept from the room as Moore turned to Bessie almost too happy to speak.
"You heard?"
She nodded her head, her eyes filling with happy tears.
There was a clatter in the street and a closed carriage drew up in front of Mrs. Malone's. Following it came a dozen hussars, riding gaily, as though in hope of a skirmish. Sir Percival Lovelace and Mr. Dyke alighted and hurried upstairs, while Sweeny and his adherents contemplated the soldiers from the safety of distance in melancholy grandeur.
"I have been waiting for you, Sir Percival," said the Prince.
"Yet I made all possible haste," said Sir Percival, bowing low to Bessie. "By good luck, Farquar of the Tenth Hussars was dining with me. A word to him brought me a dozen stout lads, and with them for escort I hurried here."
"Will Farquar keep a still tongue?" inquired Wales, more anxious than he appeared.
"Trust him for that, your Highness," replied Sir Percival, confidently.
"I think I will have to, Lovelace," observed the Prince, dryly. "Mr. Moore, I have only to thank you for your kindly hospitality. I shall expect you at Carlton House in the morning. Mistress Dyke, Tom is indeed a lucky man. As for you, Mr. Dyke, I only await your promise not to repeat the offence to overlook the error into which you fell some weeks ago. Good night, my friends--Stay! I would not leave your clever lad unrewarded. Give him this and tell him if he ever sees fit to quit your service he will not find Wales ungrateful."
As he spoke, the Prince took the ring which Sir Percival held out to him. Handing it to Moore, he turned and bowed himself out, followed by the baronet.