"The rogue," he mumbled, and turning he strode to the wall and touched a great brass gong that hung there. "Thou didst speak of thy wounds," he said. "How camest thou by them; wert in the fleet that met the Spanish Armada?"
"Yes," I answered, "I was, then——"
"How did the fight go?" he eagerly interrupted me. "Do the Spaniards even now sail up the Thames to sack the city?"
"Hardly," I answered. "They are beaten and scattered, with Drake and Hawkins in hot pursuit."
"Good!" he shouted joyously. "But thou—why, we thought thee dead long ere this."
"'Tis a long tale," I replied, "and I will tell it to thee to-morrow."
"I forgot," he said hastily, with red cheeks, "and I beg thy pardon; for once curiosity got the better of my manners."
"Where is the note that the seaman had for me, Sam?" he asked, as the old man who had opened the door for us appeared.
"Here, thy honor," he said, as he handed a paper to Sir Henry. "The man begs thy pardon for not delivering it at once, but I dragged him away to drink a glass with me, to celebrate the defeat of the Spaniards, and I am sure that thou wilt forgive his remissness," and he smiled with the ease of an old favorite.
"Begone!" said Sir Henry. "I pardon thee at such a time as this, but let it not occur again."