He turned sharply as Knollys entered, and his profile showed clear against the sunset. The very cock of his head was for adventure.
Knollys closed the door. He had a green cloak and hood, and a grey scarf over his right arm.
“The King behind the King!”
He gave a short laugh and tossed the things upon the bed.
“It’s like the smell of the sea when the ships put off for France. On with the cloak, lad, and wrap the scarf over your face. It will be dark enough in the streets.”
Two strides brought Fulk into the middle of the attic.
“I was ready to knock my head against the wall. What news?”
“Leave that for an hour. We must get through while the streets are open. The mob may break in before you can sing an Ave.”
Fulk put on the cloak, and covered his face with the scarf, so that nothing but his eyes showed.
“What lodging for to-night?”