aring a prank as
the impersonation of the wounded man.

But all the same this great favour had been shown, and there was the
young upstart of an esquire seated on the King's left, where all through
the evening he had been the recipient of the greater part of the royal
conversation, responding in French, with a little English which made the
King roar, and encouraged him to continue his rather lame efforts at
English conversation with an accent that could be called nothing better
than vile.

The evening had passed away, and, wearied out at last, the King himself
had relieved his feelings with more than one unroyal yawn--signals these
of the time approaching when the gentlemen of the bedchamber would have
to be in attendance, and another of the Court days be at an end.

Henry was about to rise, when the chamberlain came quickly behind his
chair and whispered something close to his ear, looking hard at Denis as
he spoke.

So meaning was his glance that the boy, who in spite of the royal favour
had been on pins all the time, took fright at once, ready as he was to
associate everything informal as being in some way connected with those
who had escaped. The next moment the lad's hands had turned cold and
damp, while a giddy sensation attacked his brain, for the King had
suddenly exclaimed:

"Hah! The Captain of the Guard with his reports?"

"Yes, Sire. I have told him to wait at the door of your private
cabinet. Will you receive him there?"

"No," cried the King bluffly. "Bring him in here, and see that he has a
cup of wine.--Now, my young masquerader," he cried banteringly to Denis,
"there's news for you. Scores of my guards have been scouring the
riverside, and they have come to announce that the prisoners have been
secured, for our sick friend the Comte was certain to break down before
he had gone far. Well, why do you look like that?" he continued, as he
noticed the change in the young esquire's face. "There, there: I am not
so savage as they say, and whatever happens it is nothing to you, boy,
for somehow--there, never mind. Here comes my friend the captain."

For there was the heavy tramp of feet, and the stalwart Captain of the
Guard, in half armour, huge buff boots, and pointed morion set well back
upon his head, strode up to the King's table, dusty and travel-stained,
to sink upon one knee, the plates of his armour grinding together with a
strange sound as he went down--a sound repeated as the King s